aw passing in my mind."

When Lord Wellesley, (Lord-Lieutenant,) after the death of the father,
proposed to continue the half-pay to the sister, Moore declined the
offer, although, he adds,--"God knows how useful such aid would be to
me, as God alone knows how I am to support all the burdens now heaped
upon me"; and his wife at home was planning how "they might be able to
do with one servant," in order that they might be the better able to
assist his mother.

The poet was born at the corner of Aungier Street, Dublin, on the 28th
of May, 1779, and died at Sloperton, on the 25th of February,[I] 1852,
at the age of seventy-two. What a full life it was! Industry a
fellow-worker with Genius for nearly sixty years!

He was a sort of "show-child" almost from his birth, and could barely
walk when it was jestingly said of him, he passed all his nights with
fairies on the hills. Almost his earliest memory was having been crowned
king of a castle by some of his playfellows. At his first school he was
the show-boy of the schoolmaster: at thirteen years old he had written
poetry that attracted and justified admiration. In 1797 he was "a man of
mark"; at the University,[J] in 1798, at the age of nineteen, he had
made "considerable progress" in translating the Odes of Anacreon; and in
1800 he was "patronized" and flattered by the Prince of Wales, who was
"happy to know a man of his abilities," and "hoped they might have many
opportunities of enjoying each other's society."

His earliest printed work, "Poems by Thomas Little," has been the
subject of much, and perhaps merited, condemnation. Of Moore's own
feeling in reference to these compositions of his mere, and thoughtless,
boyhood, it may be right to quote two of the dearest of his friends.
Thus writes Lisle Bowles of Thomas Moore, in allusion to these early
poems:--

"'----Like Israel's incense laid
Upon unholy earthly shrines':--

Who, if, in the unthinking gayety of premature genius, he joined the
sirens, has made ample amends by a life of the strictest virtuous
propriety, equally exemplary as the husband, the father, and the
man,--and as far as the muse is concerned, _more_ ample amends, by
melodies as sweet as Scriptural and sacred, and by weaving a tale of the
richest Oriental colors, which faithful affection and pity's tear have
consecrated to all ages." This is the statement of his friend
Rogers:--"So heartily has Moore repented of having published 'Little's