T. MOORE.

Long shall we seek his likeness,--long in vain.
And turn to all of him which may remain,
Sighing that Nature formed but one such man.
And broke the die--in moulding Sheridan!
_Monody on the Death of Sheridan_. LORD BYRON.

GEORGE WASHINGTON.

While Washington's a watchword, such as ne'er
Shall sink while there's an echo left to air.
_Age of Bronze_. LORD BYRON.

DUKE OF WELLINGTON.

O good gray head which all men knew,
O voice from which their omens all men drew,
O iron nerve to true occasion true,
O fallen at length that tower of strength
Which stood four-square to all the winds that blew!
Such was he whom we deplore.
The long self-sacrifice of life is o'er.
The great World-victor's victor will be seen no more.
_On the Death of the Duke of Wellington_. A. TENNYSON.

OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.

His nature's a glass of champagne with the foam on 't.
As tender as Fletcher, as witty as Beaumont;
So his best things are done in the flash of the moment.
_A Fable for Critics_. J.R. LOWELL.

NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE.

There in seclusion and remote from men
The wizard hand lies cold,
Which at its topmost speed let fall the pen,
And left the tale half told.

Ah! who shall lift that wand of magic power,
And the lost clew regain?
The unfinished window in Aladdin's tower
Unfinished must remain!
_Hawthorne, May 23, 1864_ H.W. LONGFELLOW.

RALPH WALDO EMERSON.

A Greek head on right Yankee shoulders, whose range
Has Olympus for one pole, for t'other the Exchange;
He seems, to my thinking (although I'm afraid
The comparison must, long ere this, have been made).
A Plotinus-Montaigne, where the Egyptian's gold mist
And the Gascon's shrewd wit cheek-by-jowl coexist.
_A Fable for Critics_. J.R. LOWELL.

CARLYLE AND EMERSON.

C.'s the Titan, as shaggy of mind as of limb,--
E. the clear-eyed Olympian, rapid and slim;
The one's two thirds Norseman, the other half Greek,
Where the one's most abounding, the other's to seek;
C.'s generals require to be seen in the mass,--
E.'s specialties gain if enlarged by the glass;
C. gives nature and God his own fits of the blues.
And rims common-sense things with mystical hues,--
E. sits in a mystery calm and intense,
And looks coolly around him with sharp common-sense.
_A Fable for Critics_. J.R. LOWELL.

EDGAR ALLAN POE.

There comes Poe, with his raven, like Barna