There come, a master touch he flings,
With flying hand across the strings;
Sweet flow the accents, soft and clear,
And strike upon a kindred ear;
Admitted soon a welcome guest,
The god partakes the royal feast,
Pleased to escape the vulgar throng,
And find a judge of sense and song.
Meantime, from Jove's high tenement,
To auction every thing is sent,
O grief! to auction here below.
The gazing crowd admire the show.
Celestial beds, imperial screens,
Busts, pictures, lusters, bright tureens,
With kindling zeal the bidders vie,
The dupe is spurred by puffer sly,

And many a splendid prize knocked down,
Is sent to many a part of town.

But all that's most divinely great

Is borne to -'s, in

Street.

Th' enraptured owner loves to trace
Each prototype of heavenly grace—
In ev'ry utensil can find

Expression, gesture, action, mind.

Now burns with gen'rous zeal to teach
That lore which he alone can reach ;
And gets, lest pigmy words might flag,
A glossary from Brobdignag;

To teach in prose, or chant in rhyme,
Of furniture the true sublime,

And teach the ravished world the rules
For casting pans and building schools.
Poor Vulcan's gift, among the rest,
Is sold, and decks a mortal's feast,
Bought by a goodly alderman,

Who loved his plate, and loved his can;
And when the feast his worship slew,

His lady sold it to a Jew.

From him, by various chances cast,
Long time from hand to hand it pass'd:
To tell them all would but prolong
The ling'ring of a tiresome song;
Yet still it look'd as good as new,
The wearing proved the fabric true;

Now mine, perhaps, by Fate's decree,
Dear Lady R, I send it thee;
And when the giver's days are told,
And when his ashes shall be cold,
May it retain its pristine charm,
And keep with thee his mem'ry warm!

TO SLEEP.

O SLEEP, a while thy power suspending,
Weigh not yet my eyelid down,
For Mem'ry, see! with Eve attending,
Claims a moment for her own;

I know her by her robe of mourning,
I know her by her faded light,
When faithful with the gloom returning,
She comes to bid a sad good-night.
O! let me hear with bosom swelling,
While she sighs o'er time that's past;
O! let me weep, while she is telling
Of joys that pine, and pangs that last.
And now,
O Sleep, while grief is streaming,
Let thy balm sweet peace restore;

While fearful hope through tears is beaming,

Soothe to rest that wakes no more.

THE GREEN SPOT THAT BLOOMS ON THE DESERT OF LIFE.

O'ER the desert of life where you vainly pursued

Those phantoms of hope which their promise disown,

Have you e'er met some spirit divinely endued,

That so kindly could say, You don't suffer alone?
And however your fate may have smiled or have frowned,
Will she deign still to share as the friend and the wife?
Then make her the pulse of your heart, for you've found
The green spot that blooms o'er the desert of life.

Does she love to recall the past moments so dear,
When the sweet pledge of faith was confidingly given,
When the lip spoke in voice of affection sincere,

And the vow was exchanged and recorded in heaven?
Does she wish to rebind what already was bound,
And draw closer the claim of the friend and the wife?

Then make, &c.

THE MERIDIAN IS PASSED.

THE Meridian is passed, and the comfortless west
Now calls the dull evening of life to repose;

Say, then, thou worn heart, why not yield thee to rest?

Or, why court the return of thy joys or thy woes?

If thy noon-tide affection so coldly was paid,

With whate'er it possessed, or of warmth, or of light,
Say, what can'st thou hope when thou sink'st to the shade;
But in vain to lament by the cold star of night?

Or, perhaps thou but wishest those hours to review,
Which so deeply thy pains and thy pleasures could move;
When Hope, flattering Hope, to thy passion untrue,
Called the soft voice of friendship the sweet note of love.

Oh! then let fond mem'ry recall every scene,
Every word, look, or gesture, that touched thee the most;
Let her tears, where 'tis faded, refresh the faint green,
And though joy may escape, let no suffering be lost.

Let each precious remembrance be cherished with care,
Let thy inmost recess be their consecrate shrine,
Let the form, too, of her so adored be found there,
Such as friendship may wonder how love could design.

And when oft the lone mourner her image reviews,
Let her eye scorn to fill, or her bosom to heave;
And if infidel love to believe shall refuse,

Be thou once more a dupe, and let fancy deceive.

Before, however, Mr. Curran passes away from the scene of his professional triumphs, it may not be uninteresting to cast a glance at some of the associates from whom he separ ated.* It was a generation without parallel, perhaps, in legal annals, and furnished characters so peculiar, and details so whimsical, that our more disciplined posterity may well

* In this sketch the reader will pardon one or two anachronisms. These chiefly occur in the notices of Lord Plunket and Chief-justice Bushe, and seemed necessary in order that their subsequent splendid career should not be omitted.

doubt the record-to the truth of which, however, there are still many witnesses. I shall portray few scenes of which I was not a spectator, and no persons with whom I was not myself familiar. Of the more prominent actors on the stage, Lord Plunket alone remains-and remains, I rejoice to hear, with his fine intellect shedding its "glow serene" upon the evening of his eighty-eighth year. The bar of Ireland now is, I am told, no more like that learned body in the times of which I speak, than are the squires of the present day like those of Castle Rackrent. The fire and the fun of the squirearchy are gone. The morning of whisky, the noon of dueling, and the nights of claret have all passed away, and days of vulgar reckoning have succeeded-days, a dream of which never disturbed the Milesian imagination-days, forsooth, when an Encumbered Estates Bill tells landlords that they must pay, and tenants that they may live! The then bar partook, as might have been expected, very much of the character of the gentry. Enjoyment of the present and defiance of the future constituted its characteristics. Law was scarce, and, to say the truth, its acquisition somewhat dangerous, when to demur to a declaration amounted to a personal offense. Of course there were exceptions, and both sound and shining ones; but we speak of the rule. Zeal supplied the want of learning; each man became the champion of his brief, and “ wager of battle" was the plea most recognized. The reports in vogue were those of the pistol. A duel was an indispensable diploma, quite essential to success at the bar, and sometimes leading even to the bench. Barrington declares that, during what he quaintly calls his "climacteric,” no less than two hundred and twenty-seven single combats came under his notice-a list, be it observed, to which he amply contributed. This may well affright the credulity of our more peaceful day; but, to silence skepticism, I beg to refer the reader to a few of the recorded cases in which the after-attained rank of the belligerents challenges our especial wonder. Lord Clare, afterward lord chancellor, fought Curran, af

terward master of the rolls! So much for equity; but common law also sustained its reputation.

Clonmel, afterward chief justice, fought two lords and two commoners to show his impartiality, no doubt.

Medge, afterward Baron, fought his own brother-in-law and two others.

Toler, afterward chief justice of the Common Pleas, fought three persons, one of whom was Fitzgerald—even in Ireland, the "fire-eater" par excellence.

Patterson, also afterward chief justice of the same court, fought three country gentlemen, one of them with guns, another with swords, and wounded them all!

Corry, chancellor of the Exchequer, fought Mr. Grattan. The Provost of Dublin University, a privy counselor, fought Mr. Doyle, a master in Chancery, and several others.

His brother, collector of the customs, fought Lord Mountmorris.

Harry Deane Grady, counsel to the Revenue, fought several duels; and all "hits," adds Barrington, with unction.

Curran fought four persons, one of whom was Egan, chairman of Kilmainham, afterward his friend in the duel with Lord Buckinghamshire. A duel in these days was often the prelude to intimacy.

What a picture does the above list (a meager selection) present of the then state of society! Now, a barrister would be almost disqualified for the bench by what, in those days, almost operated as a recommendation to it! The consequences were obvious. I remember well, at the Sligo summer assizes for 1812, being counsel in the case of the King v. Fenton, for the murder of Major Hillas in a duel, when old Judge Fletcher thus capped his summing up to the jury: "Gentlemen, it's my business to lay down the law to you, and I will. The law says the killing a man in a duel is murder, and I am bound to tell you it is murder; therefore, in the discharge my duty, I tell you so; but I tell you, at the same time, a fairer duel than this I never heard of in the whole coorse of

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