writing at long intervals to please herself, now and then printing some pieces at the request of her sister, but always without her name, and hardly making them known even to her near friends. This strict withdrawal from the public eye reminds us of a like peculiarity in a man of genius—Edward Fitzgerald, whose rare genius was only known to the general public after his death. He, as we know, wrote only to please himself; he destroyed, or sought to destroy, many a fine piece of his own work, even after it was in type. The friends of Edward Fitzgerald have saved his name from the public indifference to which he strove to consign it. And her friends very justly hope to do some such thing for the memory of Louisa Shore.
I knew her shortly after the publication of "Hannibal" (1861 ),which I read and re-read with admiration. It is rather a historical romance in verse than a drama proper. Its two parts, its length (more than 6000 lines), with more than forty personages, take it out of that order of poetry. As a historical romance, carefully studied from the original histories; it is a noble conception of a great hero; and the tragedy of
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