Moore from Ravenna, in
1821:--

"I have had a curious letter to-day from a girl in England (I never saw
her), who says she is given over of a decline, but could not go out of
the world without thanking me for the delight which my poesy for several
years, etc., etc., etc. It is signed simply N.N.A., and has not a word
of 'cant' or preachment in it upon my opinions. She merely says that she
is dying, and that, as I had contributed so highly to the pleasure of
her existence, she thought that she might say so, begging me to _burn_
her _letter_--which, by the way, I can _not_ do, as I look upon such a
letter in such circumstances as better than a diploma from Gottingen.

"I once had a letter from Drontheim, in Norway (but not from a dying
woman), in verse, on the same score of gratulation. These are the things
which make one at times believe one's self a poet."[137]

And in "Detached Thoughts," which he wrote at Ravenna, we find:--

"A young American, named Coolidge, called on me not many months ago. He
was intelligent, very handsome, and not more than twenty years old,
according to appearance; a little romantic--but that sits well upon
youth--and mighty fond of poesy, as may be suspected from his
approaching me in my cavern. He brought me a message from an old servant
of my family (Joe Murray), and told me that he (Mr. Coolidge) had
obtained a copy of my bust from Thorwaldsen at Rome, to send to America.
I confess I was more flattered by this young enthusiasm of a solitary
trans-Atlantic traveller, than if they had decreed me a statue in the
Paris Pantheon (I have seen emperors and demagogues cast down from their
pedestals even in my own time, and Grattan's name razed from the street
called after him in Dublin); I say that I was more flattered by it,
because it was _simple, unpolitical, and was without motive or
ostentation_, the pure and warm feeling of a boy for the poet he
admired."

The lines written on the road between Ravenna and Pisa, scarcely two
years before his death, beginning with--

"Oh, talk not to me of a name great in story,"

would alone suffice to prove that his love of fame had both its source
and its sole gratification in his heart. These charming verses end
thus:--

III.

"Oh FAME!--if I e'er took delight in thy praises,
'Twas less for the sake of thy high-sounding phrases,
Than to see the bright eyes of the dear one discover
She thought that I was not unworthy to love her.