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Dante, of Goethe, but Ireland has nothing to commemorate Moore save a single bust, and Mulrenin's most graceful cabinet picture. Thus we keep to the old custom of worshipping blindly our great men whilst living, and burying all memory of them in their tombs.

We do not blame the Moore Testimonial Committee; they have done all that zealous men could accomplish; but we ask them, we ask Lord Charlemont in particular, to remember how Scotland has commemorated Burns by the Festival of 1844, and Scott by his noble monument in Edinburglı, and then to say if a statue of bronze placed in Collegestreet is not rather an insult to Moore's genius, and an object exposing Ireland to the ridicule of the world, than a fitting testimony from a Nation to its Poet. Irishmen from all quarters are now visiting our city, and surely it is not yet too late to make some effort by which the funds of the Committee can be increased. A Concert, the songs to be selected from Moore's works—we are sure Robinson and Geary could procure the singers, and we believe Harris would lend the Theatre, a Bazaar--a Public Dinnera representation at the TheatreRoyal of Sheil's Evadne, which is dedicated to Moore--any, or all, of these might be attempted, and could hardly fail to be successful in producing funds to save us from such statues as we devote to the Georges in the Lord Mayor's Garden, and in St. Stephen's Green. Unless the testimonial stands before the world worthy of Ireland and of Moore, it is better that he should rest in his green grave at Bromham, his poems his only monument, a monument which will ever lead “The pilgrims of his genius” from all lands to visit that

“ village where his latter days
Went down the vale of years; and 'tis their pride
An honest pride and let it be their praise,
To offer to the passing stranger's gaze
His mansion and his sepulchre.”

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This Book is Due

1.3 Irish

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