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Show "A Word, fitly Spoken is like Apples of Gold in Pictures of ' TO A YOtJKG FRIEND. 1 j SALT LAKE CITY, UTAHr AUGUST 1, 1870. Vol. 8. ON Silver." HER BIRTH DAY. For my birthday present write me a pocci." At the remembrance of thy name What kindly oldea memories start! Ho re 13 the jjflf ttEou 0uFdid3fc claim , From out the garden of my heart few are the pleasures that grow there in Nor bright nor rare their clusters shine; Tho passers smile they ne'er might win, ' And time has faded these I twine. Here's hopci how brightly ence it bloomed, Illuming every day and hour; And vanquished, every cloud of gloom, That ever shadowed youth's fair bower. Here's love, a flower all have known, Has plenty made its value less Anl has it out of fashion grown, Which e'er 6hould be the fairest, best? And here's forgiveness; blossom pale, But little prized and rarely sought; Amid the shade, alonir the vale It blooms with sweetest f ragnance fraught. ? e, And here's remembrance, Round broken hope's and lives it clings; And deep its tender rootlets strike, And wide its living mantle flings. But for thy maiden.hood's fair time, Too sombre seems the gift I bring; Like leaves grown sere ere Autumn time Or sadness stealing as we sing. ivy-lik- ' For the Exponent. THOUGHTS ON THE POETS. BY HANNAH T. KING. The Bard of Erin, was equally famous as a poet, a friend and a man of tho world; his genius, his genial disposition, and his bewitching manners, made him tho welcome visitor to all the grand drawing-room- s of the elite of England, of which London is the focus. He is the author of "Lallan Rookh," ''The Loves of tho AnHis gels," and "The Vale of Cashmere." "Melodies" will alone hand down his name to posterity. Music and poetry were twin gifts in Moore;he,himself,set his own pieces lo music, and then sang them in his own sweet, rich voice! and his social and refined nature, his polished manners, sparkling wit and good heart made him truly the petted chila of whatever society he entered. Byron and. he met in the same charmed circles as the Castoi and Pollux of each assembly they were indeed the lions of those London season?. A sincere friendship sprang up between them, the commencement of which was a misunderstanding m severe tha a challenge to fight a duel was sent by Moore, but by a happy accident the letter did not reach its destination,and they did not again meet for two years, when an explanation took place, and they became cordial friends for life. Byron ever gave his whole heart, if he gave it at all, and his devotion tQ Moore knew no cessation; in his playful moods he used to call him "An abridgement'of all that's delightful In man!" And who has not read his "Farewell to Tom Moore," as ho was leaving his native country; who has not read 'it? who has not sung it? for it has been set to appropriate music, and deserved to be. Moore . .V Years after, when Moore visited Byron at Kavennafon his leaving,Byron ran up to his room, and returniog.brought down a heavy package which he placed in Moore's hands, saying, "Here is a fortune for your little Tom, I make you my biographer!" It con- tained hiadiary,whichJiahatLpfcJrQma child: his letters, unpublished poems, etc., and when at the early age of thirty-sevehe passed off this stage of action, Moore took up his mission, and sent forth to the world his "Life of Byron." Much valuablo manuscript was destroyed by the n, re-ligi- ousl desiro of a council of friends, us he spoke too much truth. When Byron censured, he did so understanding, and he detested the "Wolf in Sheep's Clothing," and hypoform; --this honest crisy in every shape-an- d feeling made some of his poems what is called bitter, because "truth's a libel" in such cases. Moore is an honest biographer, and whenever it was possible he allows Byron to speak for himself, and constitutes his readers judges, as far as they are capable of being so. And when ho delineates, it is done in the spirit of Christian charity and admiring appreciation. Their names are eternally blended iu one bright and glorious monogram. No poet has been more read and sung than Moore. There is in his verse3 the of every heart, and hence there is a loud response to tho Harp of the Poet. The beautiful episode of 'Paradise and the Peri" is sweet and thrilling, and the moral is equally so. Late in life, Moore's mind became feeble and inert. Of coarse many were the remedies that were tried by his adoring friends to resuscitate the brain. At last it was suggested that some of his own beautiful melodies should be sweetly sung in his presence. It was observed he listened attentively. At last he exclaimed, with a spark of his old fire," What is it? it's very sweet! Surely I've heard it before!' Wo cannot dwell on such a mournful change to a great, grand mind, but he has long since rehearsed his beautiful minstrel sy in the choirs of the Empyreum, where such spirits open their eyes upon all its glories and feel in all its fulness they are Ian-guag- o ' "Robby, Bobby! child o! son?, The nob y poor, .the bravely8trong. ' .. it L. - ,: f ,;. gy of buried leaning, is' he, butaireecof-dla- l, earnest man! ITe is a Human creature ouly?overflovvlng; with the characteristicXpf Ho conceals not, his share of humanity, frailty, nor turns aside from penance--- " He takes with equal thanks a sermoo or a song; ho loves and worships' with the same devotion: rIt;is a blessing that sucnVa oulshbuld arise Hrf the ihidst of ;pdvertxVor!wAs"Uio bfs naturejthosphbols may:"toake j scHolarsV but they cannot' jn&o aBurusT When enedrit AVa$; from an excess of never from (jell berate' hypocrisy. passion, Burns wvir lost hlsrconicionce ' cerlty or manliQess of his. character ( his poetry is sentimental and pensjvb. ''Holy Willie's Prayer" was drawn from life, and was truth; and in all his writings .ho spoke the truth of his sou), arid when ho iWrote: : , . "God knows, I'm not the thiog I should b?i Nor am I even the thing I could be. Rut twenty times I rather would bs An atheist clean, 'J han unler ' gorpel colors h'd bd i - i . r Just for a screen:" . dignity in the polished circles of Edinburgh; he felt the sting of poverty, and his whole nature recoiled from dependence. Who dare presume to sit in Judgment upon such a being, whose very drrorsiieaned to virtue's side," and who writes of himself: "By passion driven,- - , And yet tho light that led astray i Was light from Heaven!' j . .. : .. . - ..... Of tho objectaiof hig regard, his High. land Mary" eeems nlonpto have: inspired poetical sentiment. Tholr. solemn parting on the banks ot the Ayr, and her early death all are. familiar wlthf her' memory seemed consecrated In his imagination, and he has immortalized her i mage by h is ''Exquisite Mary In Heaven.??- - :.;t Woman was his tutelar deitjr. If he wanted to write a poom, ho sought a fine woman for his inspiration. These are his . own expressions, and his was; ever thatof true man to woman:spirit tender, Read hla words: .. ; ? -- respect-ful,Iovin- "Thea gently scan your brother mia; Still gentler, sister woman." Who made the heart 'tis ho alone Decidedly can try us. IIo knows each chord its rarloui (oce, ' Each spriai its varioiu blasU X . ' Then at tho balance let bo mute, , , We never can ad Just it; ' What'a done wo partly may compute, : : But Jtnow not what's mlttcd."" ? , s . , ;; This Is an epitomo of, a righteous judg. ment; thla takes" uslntb tjie secret shuts the door upon the world and its babbling jargon. lt a r;.. tl"iv, Hla "Cotter's, Saturday ; Night,' 'his "Tarn P'Shanter, his 'Prayer i.tho'pros-Pect:pfjeath- ,!'j how ,Jquchingly beautiful! because our heart respond to tho chords he so po werfully strikes. Eliza Cook shall give the finale to cham-bers,a- ; , . .. .... Ob, Robin, Robin! Prince j now Will speak of him who held the plow.' " The jvhole poem is lovely. I can scarcely refrain from copying it,but must pass on. In Imagination, I picture the inspired plowman; grasp his hand Ifeel he Is a bro-th- er who speaks to us, a creature of flesh and blood; I note the pride on bis brow, the tear in his eye, the smile, on his lip; no effi g! ; "At Home." Burns "The Ayrshire ' plowman," as he Is lovingly called by his brotherhood. Burns was a man and a poet to be proud of, simply because he was honest,' and; told the truth when ho did speak, and because he hated all shams, come in whatever form they might. Scotland loves her patriot poet, and England, in her, love, '13 almost jealous for fear aho shall not eviUce her love iu the same ratio. Eliza Cook' sings the sentiments of the nation in her heart song v :..v:of . this brief memoir:,. : .... . ' " "ThoUff h nourht beside of hallowed worth :l barker Sootla't men and :8coUs earth Since Burns has sun, she need no moreC To spread her fame the wide world o'er.' un, Kobin, Kobln! proudly dear, Tbyplritstltlto wlth ushere;V - - a 1 1 -- And glory's" hato round thy head , Phtnea as we.Uud the mighty dead!"-- . , ' ' nd |