He [Robert Emmet] was altogether a noble fellow, and as full of imagination and tenderness of heart as of manly daring. He used frequently to sit by me at the piano-forte, while I played over the airs from Bunting’s Irish collection; and I remember one day when we were thus employed, his starting up as if from a reverie while I was playing the spirited air “Let Erin remember the Day,” and exclaiming passionately, “Oh that I were at the head of twenty-thousand men marching to that air.”