Oh, day and night the boy-god haunts
My heart, dear love, and with witching glance,
Sweet visions of Heaven gives me.

The bards sublime of the days of old

The prettiest legends of love have told
In their golden minstrelsy;

But yet there is one which, while fair eyes
On the poet shower their witcheries,

Can never find credit with me.

These bards pretend that the Muses shun
The presence of Cypria's bright ey'd son,
And fly from his company;

But never shall story as this untrue
Impose on such spirits as you or you
Fair Nymph who sittest by me.

The cold, austere, and passionless breast Which Cupid has ne'er with his spells imprest,

Or pierc'd with his archery;

Oh, never on it will the gentle Nine
The lustre shed of their smiles divine,

Or choose it their home to be.

But hearts that worship the light that lies And gleams like a god in woman's soft eyes, Such hearts their shrines shall be:

And he who her fondest love would win

Must court her by means of those angels twin, Music and Poesy.

Then twine the cup with a wreath of flowers,
We'll brighten dull life's remaining hours

With rosy revelry!

Oh, ne'er do the moments so happily flit,
As when in the light of thy looks I sit,

And they shine down on me.

I'm here reminded of an aneckdote that's eminently caractheristic. At the contisted elexshuns in Cork, Mister Croker was in his element, for none ever passed off without half a score of duels, and as many riots as filled the hospittles, enricht the apothekerries, and fortuned off the purty daughters of the physishans and undhertakers. I wonst met him lavin' the Coort House in Castle Sthreet, appariently in high sperrits. I ran afther him, and axed him what was in the wind? 'Do'nt delay me a moment, my dear Barney" (he's of the rale ould stock, and ai'nt ashamed to make free with one like me), says he, I'm on a most deliteful arrand ;" says he; Jack and Tom have quarrelled and I'm goin' to settle the matther at wanst.' "With pistols av coorse," sez I, Crofty stared." Arrah how else ye nagar? sez he.” “And let me tell you Barney," says he, "that it's a disgrace to our city that I should be obliged to go all the way to my lodgins for the barkers," says he. "Why man doorin' an elexshun you shou'd have duellin' poll-book in coort" says he. notion of an Irish elexshun.

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pistols undher every Sich is my frind Croker's But afther all there's no

betther man braithin'. He's a livin' comment on the

axiom of Pliny-Natura nusquam mägis quam in minimis tota est ;-nature never succeeds so perfickly as whin she moulds little men.

DOCTHER LARDNER comes next-a well known charackther. He wears goold specticles and has a nose in Poor fella! I'm tould he's on the batther this

his face. long while.

Afther him was JOHN ANSTER, L.L.D., the Drayton of Irelind, whose agrestic Muse often threw many a brite beam ov song over our meetins, and who as Poet Lauryeat of the club can niver be minshund by Corkmin without respect and affexshin. Then there was SHERIDAN KNOWLES Whose dhramatic jaynius seems inspired by the Spirit of Shirley, and Webster, and the gintle Fletcher. FARDAROUGHA CARLETON, and SAM LOVER the songwriter; COUNSELLOR LINDSAY, and DICK SAINTHILL, famous for makin' an Olla Podrida of the most excellint kind, and for Claret worthy of the suppers of the luxurious Duke of Orleans the Ragent of France. Then there was that excellint fella PHILOsopher Keleher, who in his own quiet way has done more for Cork than the whole thribe o'brawlin agitathors that ever speeched with Corney Carver at their hed; and tho' last not laste JOHN WINDELE Who as an elegint writher and purfound antiquarian has scarcely his aiquil in the South.

The next remarkable mimber of the Deipnosophist Club was FATHER ENGLAND, or as he was emphatically called Tom England, a holy Roman of high repute though

of low stature. Tommy is a larned skollar and good thaologian, and 'ud have been made a bishop long ago, only that there's a special decree of the Vatican agen any one who do'nt stand three feet, seven inches and the one eighth without his stockins. The Poap however to recompinse him gev him absolution for all his sins, past, present, and to come, and faix they sez his Ravarince likes this betther than the mither and cope. He is well known in the small town of Passage of which he is pasthor and pather-nosther sayer as the author of a big quarto nearly as tall as himself, entitled "The last Speech and Dying Words of that Notorious Malefactor, the Rev. Father O'Leary, with an affecting narrative of his extraordinary behaviour at Gallows Green, his remarkable dispute on Purgatory with Canty the Hangman, and his dissection by cruel Dr. Woodroffe. All for the small sum of One Halfpenny. He is known also as the author of that eccentric piece of classical humour, entitled The Wake of Teddy Roe," and which, as it is supposed to be an accurate and veracious account of Father O'Leary's wake, desarves to be inserted here as a litthery curiosity. For obvious rasons the preesht didn't wish to state the rale name of his Hero, but there can be no doubt that the serkimstances related in the ballad actually occured, and that poor O'Leary was mauled at his wake in the manner described. The quarrel arose because his relations on the father's side wanted to berry him in the northern corner of the grave yard, and those of his mother's on the south.

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ΕΣΤΙΑ ΠΕΡΙ ΝΕΚΡΟΥ ΡΩΙΔΕΟΣ.

α.

Εν Εβλανη δοξης και πλουτων τῇ πόλει,
Εθαν' ιχθυοπωλης γενῳ Ρωιδει,

Γειτονες δ ωλολυξαν και εβησαν αμα

Παραπεμπειν προς ταφον τον τεθνεώτα.

Ηνίοχος Δογερτιάδης αυτικα εκαλείτο. Κλυθι ω Δογερτιάδε ιπποδαμέ, ημας και διφρηλατει προς εστιαν υπερ νεκρου Ρωιδεος. Ναι μα Ζηνα ως τεθνηκε, δει "ημων τον νεκρον επισκοπειν, αλλως μεν γαρ αχθησεται. Ουν δη διφρηλατει ω γαθε

Δεσποιναν Δηληνην νυμφην τε και Δω,

Δεσποιναν και Βληνην συν τω Φηγηνῳ,

Υπερ νεκρου αυτου βοαειν Ω ! Ω !

β.

Τοις ιματίοις καλοις ενδεδυμενοι

Φολκος νυμφη Δω και αλλοι τε πτωχοι,

Κλισιην αφικοντ' ες εν φ Ρωιδης

Κειτο—θυραν τ' ηραττε Δογερτιάδης.

Προσέρχεται τοτε Φηλιμος του νεκυος μητράδελφος, και λέγει, Χαίρετε, Χαίρετε ω γειτονες: ο ανεψιος εμου συν φίλοις εστιατοριο εστι, φευ! φευ! υστατα πιων. Αναβαντες την κλιμακα τον νεκρον τιματε-Ιουδη, Ιουδη, τους σανδαλους δρυπτε, ιδου γαρ η αριστοκράτεια ! Εμον ανεψιον καθιζε παρα τοιχω κεφαλον ταις προσθεταις κομαις κρυπτε, και εν στοματῳ εμβαλλε σωληνα. Αναβαίνετε γυναίκες. Νυν χρη μεθυσκειν,