HORACE SMITH. 1779-1849. [AUTHOR of several novels and verses. In connection with his brother James he wrote clever parodies and criticisms in the Picnic, the London Review, and the Monthly Mirror. In the last appeared those imitations from his own and his brother's hand which were published in 1813 as The Rejected Addresses, one of the most successful and popular works that has ever appeared. Besides these he wrote Brambletye House, in imitation of Scott's historical novels; also, Tor Hill, Walter Colyton, The Moneyed Man, The Merchant, and several others. His best performance is the Address to the Mummy, some parts of which exhibit the finest sensibility and an exquisite poetic taste.] ADDRESS TO THE MUMMY IN | Perhaps thou wert a mason, and for bidden By oath to tell the secrets of thy trade Then say, what secret melody was hid den In Memnon's statue, which at sunrise play'd? Perhaps thou wert a priest- if so my struggles Are vain, for priestcraft never owns its juggles. Perchance that very hand, now pinion'd flat, Has hob-a-nobb'd with Pharaoh, Or dropp'd a halfpenny in Homer's hat, pass, Or held, by Solomon's own invitation, A torch, at the great Temple's dedication. I need not ask thee if that hand, when arm'd, Has any Roman soldier maul'd and knuckled, For thou wert dead, and buried, and embalm'd, Ere Romulus and Remus had been Antiquity appears to have begun Thou couldst develop, if that wither' tongue Might tell us what those sightless orbs have seen, REV. GEORGE CROLY. 1780-1860. CUPID CARRYING PROVISIONS. THERE was once a gentle time Then a rosy, dimpled cheek, But that time is gone and past, EBENEZER ELLIOTT. 1781-1849. [BORN 17th of March, 1781, at the New Foundry, Masbro', near Rotherham, Yorkshire; wrote in his seventeenth year The Vernal Walk; worked in his father's foundry until 1804: made trials of business in Sheffield, of which the first failed; published his first volume of verse, 1823: Village Patriarch, 1829; Corn Law Rhymer, 1831; retired from business, 1841; died 1st of December. 1849.] SONG. Mother has sold her bed: Better to die than wed! Home we have none! |