[THIRD Son of Sir Aubrey De Vere of Curragh Chase, Limerick Co. Born in 1814, and educated at Trinity College, Dublin, a poet and political writer; author of May Carols, The Sisters, Irish Odes, etc., besides numerous prose works on political subjects.] But tares, self-sown, have overtopped the wheat; Sad are our joys, for they were sweet in blowing, And still, O, still their dying breath is sweet; And sweet is youth, although it hath bereft us Of that which made our childhood And sweet is middle life, for it hath left us Not for their sake, but His who grants ROBERT NICOLL. 1814-1837. [BORN in Perthshire, Scotland, 1814. Son of parents in humble circumstances, and self-educated. At the age of twenty-one he published a small volume of poems which became exceedingly popular and passed through several editions. He afterwards obtained the position of editor on the Leeds Times, which, under his control, more than tripled its circulation. His health gave way, after he had been engaged in his editorial duties about a year, and he removed to Edinburgh, where he died in 1837.] WE ARE BRETHREN A'. A HAPPY bit hame this auld world would be, If men, when they're here, could make shift to agree, An' ilk said to his neighbor, in cottage an' ha', "Come, gi'e me your hand - we are brethren a'." [BORN at Enfield, Middlesex, England, Nov. 26, 1814. For twenty-five years a director of a railway company in Belgium; has been a frequent contributor of verse to the London Athenæum and Gentleman's Magazine; is author of several volumes of poems: Beads from a Rosary, 1843; The Burden of the Bell, and other Lyrics, 1850; Berries and Blossoms, 1855; Foxglove Bells, a Book of Sonnets, 1856; The Quest of the Sangreall, 1868; also of Bibliotheca Piscatoria, 1861; and The Chronicle of the Compleat Angler of Izaak Walton and Charles Cotton, being a bibliographical record of its various phases and mutations, editions and illustrations, 1864. LITTLE BELL. "He prayeth well, who loveth well The Ancient Mariner. PIPED the Blackbird, on the beechwood spray, 66 Pretty maid, slow wandering this way, What's your name?" quoth he. "What's your name? O, stop and straight unfold, Pretty maid, with showery curls of gold." "Little Bell," said she. Little Bell sat down beneath the rocks, Tossed aside her gleaming, golden locks, 66 "Bonny bird!" quoth she, Sing me your best song, before I go." "Here's the very finest song I know, Little Bell," said he. And the Blackbird piped-you never heard Half so gay a song from any bird; Full of quips and wiles, Now so round and rich, now soft and slow, All for love of that sweet face below, Dimpled o'er with smiles. And the while that bonny bird did pour His full heart out, freely, o'er and o'er, 'Neath the morning skies, In the little childish heart below All the sweetness seemed to grow and grow, And shine forth in happy overflow From the brown, bright eyes. Down the dell she tripped, and through the glade Peeped the squirrel from the hazel-shade, And from out the tree Swung and leaped and frolicked, void of fear, While bold Blackbird piped, that all might hear, "Little Bell!" piped he. Little Bell sat down amid the fern: "Happy Bell!" pipes he. Little Bell looked up and down the glade: “Squirrel, Squirrel, from the nut-tree shade, Bonny Blackbird, if your're not afraid, Come and share with me!" [AN English theologian and poet. Born at Durham, June 28, 1814; graduated at Oxford in 1836; became vicar of Elton in 1843; went over to the Roman Catholic Church in 1845; founded the oratory of the brotherhood of St. Philip Neri in London in 1849, and in 1854 removed with it to Brompton, where he died Sept. 26, 1863. He will be remembered as the author of some exquisitely beautiful hymns, equally admired by all communions.] |
