TOR THE ENaUIRER.

BYRON.
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 BrRoN What magic spell bFeathes in that name

 lhaf sends strange ffemoFs thrilling thro my frame Awake, O Muse, thy numbers wildly fling,

 And strike the Tyre, while his feQIliem sing.

 And as its trembling sffings the notes prolong.

 May l, inspired attune the mournful song.

 Byron the Dobiest bard that every sung

 Through fair Britana's realm; and once among

 Her brightest gems. whose radiance flashing Tar,

 Dlmm'd with its radiance, many a lesser star,

 That eFst before thy bright career began,

 And shone unrivali'd on the page of mar,

 Byron! feser hath our common mother fartb Heceiv'd onto het bosom, one whose birth

 pawhd more ansRieipqs on the world than thine {; Alas the painiul task-ah! woe is mine, ., That now the Poe, E frailty must lay bare " But stay,n eries m6ek-eyed Mercy. To spare. Nor the dark spots unveil !; enough to say. la For every sin committed, thou didst pay sa The penalty full well; and yet, thy heart Was one of kindly pulse, and meath the smart Of public censure. beat with generous glow, And thon vert lbonnteous to the sons of woe. Oh turn we now to Virtues milier beams. M And only sing how she threw OCT the scenes < sottening light, while on bright Grecia's plain. Thine arm was rais'd to break Tyrant's chain Eyn there thou didst depart, ere yet the light Of manhooRs prime had faded from thy sight. Sleep on l! immortal Bard aye, calmly rest. # Thou Tt pillowh on thy mothers earthly breast There rest thee well. An! sleep-for not again. May thy cold slumbef's sdamantine chain, Be seyer'd. till the final trump shall sound, And wake the sleepers from the trembling ground. Then purged from dross. o may thy spirit rise, And wing it's flight above it's native skies. There may thy harpstrings, tuned 10 nobler themes, Swell the full tide Of melody pure streams, And with th' adoring world, on pended knee. $ o may'st thou bow 10 Him who died for thee.

 Litchfela, Feb. g, 1915. M...