er possessed greater
influence in disseminating and strengthening such sentiments, than
Burns. My lord, it has been well said that wherever an humble artisan,
in the crowded haunts of labour or of trade, feels a consciousness of
his own dignity--is stirred with a desire for the beautiful, or haunted
with a dream of knowledge, or learns to appreciate the distinction
between the "guinea's stamp" and the "gowd," _there_ the royal and
gentle spirit of Robert Burns, lion-like in its boldness, and dove-like
in its tenderness, still glows, elevates, and inspires. This spirit is
also here, and has been evidenced in many ways; perhaps in none more
than in this, that in doing honour to the genius of Burns, we are
irresistibly led to acknowledge, and speak of the debts we owe to the
intellectual achievements of other great minds, not in Scotland only,
but in the sister countries. We have just heard, from the eloquent lips
of Sir John M'Neill, the well-deserved praises of the English bards.
Will this meeting refuse a similar cup of welcome, and of thanks, to the
poets of Green Erin? Will this meeting, where so many bright eyes rain
influence, and manly hearts beat high, not hail with simultaneous
delight the name of one who shines conspicuous as the very poet of
youth, of love, and of beauty--the poet, with deference be it spoken, of
better things than even beauty--of gentle thoughts and exquisite
associations, that give additional sweetness to the twilight hour, and
to the enjoyments of home a more endearing loveliness; the poet, too, of
his own high-souled country, through whose harp the common breeze of
Ireland changes, as it passes, into articulate melody--a harp that will
never be permitted to hang mute on Tara's walls, as long as

"Erin! the tear and the smile in thine eye
Blend like the rainbow that melts in thy sky!"

How many voices have to-day murmured a wish that he were here! But the
echo of the acclaim with which we greet the name of Moore will reach him
in his solitude, and he will feel, what Burns died too young to feel,
that it is something worth living for to have gained a nation's
gratitude. Of Maturin and others now dead, I must not pause to speak.
But let me be privileged to express, in name of this meeting, our
respect and admiration for the best of the living dramatists--one deeply
imbued with the spirit of the Elizabethan age--one who has rescued our
stage from the reproach which seemed ready to fall