Edward Lysaght

"Poetry and pistols, wine and women."

"He sows no vile dissensions; good-will to all he bears; He knows no vain pretensions, no paltry fears or cares; To Erin's and to Britain's sons his worth his name endears; They love the man, who led the van of Irish Volunteers."

"He was acting as second...to Deane Grady, in a duel between the latter and Counsellor O'Maher. O'Maher's second, during the preliminaries, drew Lysaght's attention to the fact that his pistol was cocked. "Take care, Mr. Lysaght, your pistol is cocked." "Well, then," says Pleasant Ned, "cock yours, and let me take a slap at you, as we are idle.""

"While he was living in college, there were two sprigs of nobility there, who made themselves ridiculous. These were the two sons of Lord Norbury, the Chief Justice of the Court of Common Pleas. Lord Norbury had married the heiress of the Norwood estates, and while he was serving the office of Attorney-General, he had influence enough to get his wife made Viscountess Norwood in her own right, with remainder to her second son. In the course of time, John Toler, the Attorney-General, was himself raised to the peerage as Lord Norbury, his eldest son, of course, succeeding him in the title. Many were the mistakes about the two Hon. Messrs. Toler; the future Norwood being often confounded with the future Norbury, and vice versa. The thing was more ridiculous, as the Toler family had no aristocratic pretensions. Lysaght, one day meeting the two young, conceited Tolers, in the square of the college, went up to them and said—"Pray tell me which is which? Which of you is Bogberry, and which of you is Bogwood?" The semi-plebeian filii nobiles by no means relished the allusion to bogs."

"Spending faster than it comes, Beating waiters, bailiffs, duns, Bacchus' true-begotten sons, Live the rakes of Mallow."

"A man of more varied talents than Lysaght it was impossible to meet. In his personal character he was a thorough Irishman—brave, brilliant, witty, eloquent, and devil-may-care. He was a capital song-writer; his poems are full of that indescribable animal buoyancy which is a chief essence of Irish genius. He had a flow of exuberant spirits; his gaiety was like the laugh of matchless Mrs. Nisbett, an infallible cure for the blue devils, a potent destroyer of spleen."