s sate in state--
Where rose thy music, at the festive hours,
Through the proud halls where listening thousands
sate?

'Fallen are thy fair palaces, thy country's glory,
Thy tuneful bards were banished or were slain,
Some rest in glory on their deathbeds gory,
And some have lived to feel a foeman's chain.

'Yet for the sake of thy unhappy nation,
Yet for the sake of Freedom's spirit fled,
Let thy wild harpstrings, thrilled with indignation,
Peal a deep requiem o'er thy sons that bled.

'O yes! like the last breath of evening sighing,
Sweep thy cold hand the silent strings along,
Flash like the lamp beside the hero dying,
Then hushed for ever be thy plaintive song.'

To Mr. William Le Fanu we are further indebted for the accompanying
specimens of his brother's serious and humorous powers in verse, written
when he was quite a lad, as valentines to a Miss G. K.:

'Life were too long for me to bear
If banished from thy view;
Life were too short, a thousand year,
If life were passed with you.

'Wise men have said "Man's lot on earth
Is grief and melancholy,"
But where thou art, there joyous mirth
Proves all their wisdom folly.

'If fate withhold thy love from me,
All else in vain were given;
Heaven were imperfect wanting thee,
And with thee earth were heaven.'

A few days after, he sent the following sequel:

'My dear good Madam, You can't think how very sad I'm. I sent you, or
I mistake myself foully, A very excellent imitation of the poet Cowley,
Containing three very fair stanzas, Which number Longinus, a very
critical man, says, And Aristotle, who was a critic ten times more
caustic, To a nicety fits a valentine or an acrostic. And yet for all my
pains to this moving epistle, I have got no answer, so I suppose I may
go whistle. Perhaps you'd have preferred that like an old monk I
had pattered on In the style and after the manner of the unfortunate
Chatterton; Or that, unlike my reverend daddy's son, I had attempted the
classicalities of the dull, though immortal Addison.

I can't endure this silence another week;
What shall I do in order to make you speak?
Shall I give you a trope
In the manner of Pope,
Or hammer my brains like an old smith
To get out so