He mingled now with those within whose veins The blood ran pure--the magnates of the land-- Hail'd them as his companions and his friends, And lent them money and his note of hand. In every institution, whose proud aim Is public good alone, he soon became CXLIII. A man of consequence and notoriety; His name, with the addition of esquire, Stood high upon the list of each society, Whose zeal and watchfulness the sacred fire Of science, agriculture, art, and learning, Keep on our country's altars bright and burning. CXLIV. At Eastburn's Rooms he met, at two each day, With men of taste and judgment like his own, And play'd "first fiddle" in that orchestra Of literary worthies--and the tone Of his mind's music, by the listeners caught, Is traced among them still in language and in thought. CXLV. He once made the Lyceum a choice present Of muscle shells pick'd up at Rockaway; And Mitchill gave a classical and pleasant Discourse about them in the streets that day, Naming the shells, and hard to put in verse 'twas, "Testaceous coverings of bivalve moluscas." CXLVI. He was a trustee of a Savings Bank, And lectured soundly every evil doer, Gave dinners daily to wealth, power, and rank, And sixpence every Sunday to the poor; He was a wit, in the pun-making line-- Past fifty years of age, and five feet nine. CXLVII. But as he trod to grandeur's pinnacle, With eagle eye and step that never falter'd, The busy tongue of scandal dared to tell That cash was scarce with him, and credit alter'd; And while he stood the envy of beholders, The Bank Directors grinn'd, and shrugg'd their shoulders. CXLVIII. And when these, the Lord Burleighs of the minute, Shake their sage heads, and look demure and holy, Depend upon it there is something in it; For whether born of wisdom or of folly, Suspicion is a being whose fell power Blights every thing it touches, fruit and flower. CXLIX. Some friends (they were his creditors) once hinted About retrenchment and a day of doom; He thank'd them, as no doubt they kindly meant it, And made this speech, when they had left the room: "Of all the curses upon mortals sent, One's creditors are the most impudent; CL. "Now I am one who knows what he is doing, And suits exactly to his means his ends; How can a man be in the path to ruin, When all the brokers are his bosom friends? Yet, on my hopes, and those of my dear daughter, These rascals throw a bucket of cold water! CLI.