Having read in your Chronicle of last Tuesday a memoir of Lord Byron, in which a very beautiful ode on the death of Sir John Moore, which had been warmly commended by his Lordship, was attributed to him as its author, I think it due, not only to the sacredness of literary property, but also to the memory of a highly-gifted and most amiable and excellent man, to inform you, that it is well known in this country to have been composed by the late Rev. Charles Wolfe, when a Student in the University of Dublin. The poetical talent which could produce such an ode, was, however, but a minor qualification in the character of this young man, for he combined eloquence of the first order with the zeal of an Apostle. During the short time in which he held a curacy in the diocese of Armagh, he so wholly devoted himself to the discharge of his duties in a very populous parish, that he exhausted his strength by exertions disproportioned to his constitution, and was cut off by disease in what should have been the bloom of youth. This zeal, which was too powerful for his bodily frame, was yet controlled by a vigorous and manly intellect, which all the ardour of religion and poetry could never urge to enthusiasm. His opinions were a sober as if they were merely speculative; his fancy was as vivid as if he never reasoned; his conduct as zealous as if he thought only of his practical duties; every thing in him held its proper place, except a due consideration of himself, and to his neglect of this he became an early victim.

P.S. In the last stanza except one your copy is incorrect. The third and fourth lines should be:—

The word sullenly agrees far better than suddenly with the distant and random gun of a defeated enemy.