It happened at one of those public meetings at which Mr. Falkland and
Mr. Tyrrel were present, that the conversation, in one of the most
numerous sets into which the company was broken, turned upon the
poetical talents of the former. A lady, who was present, and was
distinguished for the acuteness of her understanding, said, she had been
favoured with a sight of a poem he had just written, entitled _An Ode to
the Genius of Chivalry_, which appeared to her of exquisite merit. The
curiosity of the company was immediately excited, and the lady added,
she had a copy in her pocket, which was much at their service, provided
its being thus produced would not be disagreeable to the author. The
whole circle immediately entreated Mr. Falkland to comply with their
wishes, and Mr. Clare, who was one of the company, enforced their
petition. Nothing gave this gentleman so much pleasure as to have an
opportunity of witnessing and doing justice to the exhibition of
intellectual excellence. Mr. Falkland had no false modesty or
affectation, and therefore readily yielded his consent.

Mr. Tyrrel accidentally sat at the extremity of this circle. It cannot
be supposed that the turn the conversation had taken was by any means
agreeable to him. He appeared to wish to withdraw himself, but there
seemed to be some unknown power that, as it were by enchantment,
retained him in his place, and made him consent to drink to the dregs
the bitter potion which envy had prepared for him.

The poem was read to the rest of the company by Mr. Clare, whose
elocution was scarcely inferior to his other accomplishments.
Simplicity, discrimination, and energy constantly attended him in the
act of reading, and it is not easy to conceive a more refined delight
than fell to the lot of those who had the good fortune to be his
auditors. The beauties of Mr. Falkland's poem were accordingly exhibited