|
|
A Hymn Of Welcome After The Recess.
By Thomas Moore
"animas sapientiores fieri quiescendo."
And now-cross-buns and pancakes o'er--
Hail, Lords and Gentlemen, once more!
Thrice hail and welcome, Houses Twain!
The short eclipse of April-Day
Having (God grant it!) past away,
Collective Wisdom, shine again!
Come, Ayes and Noes, thro' thick and thin,--
With Paddy Holmes for whipper-in,--
Whate'er the job, prepared to back it;
Come, voters of Supplies--bestowers
Of jackets upon trumpet-blowers,
At eighty mortal pounds the jacket![1]
Come--free, at length, from Joint-Stock cares--
Ye Senators of many Shares,
Whose dreams of premium knew no boundary;
So fond of aught like Company,
That you would even have taken tea
(Had you been askt) with Mr. Goundry.[2]
Come, matchless country-gentlemen;
Come, wise Sir Thomas--wisest then
When creeds and corn-lords are debated;
Come, rival even the Harlot Red,
And show how wholly into bread
A 'Squire is transubstantiated,
Come, Lauderdale, and tell the world,
That--surely as thy scratch is curled
As never scratch was curled before--
Cheap eating does more harm than good,
And working-people spoiled by food,
The less they eat, will work the more.
Come, Goulburn, with thy glib defence
(Which thou'dst have made for Peter's Pence)
Of Church-rates, worthy of a halter;
Two pipes of port (old port, 'twas said
By honest Newport)[3] bought and paid
By Papists for the Orange Altar![4]
Come, Horton, with thy plan so merry
For peopling Canada from Kerry--
Not so much rendering Ireland quiet,
As grafting on the dull Canadians
That liveliest of earth's contagions,
The bull-pock of Hibernian riot!
Come all, in short, ye wondrous men
Of wit and wisdom, come again;
Tho' short your absence, all deplore it--
Oh, come and show, whate'er men say,
That you can after April-Day,
Be just as--sapient as before it.
Extra Info:
[1] An item of expense which Mr. Hume in vain endeavored tog et rid of:-- trumpeters, it appears like the men of All-Souls, must be "bene vestiti."
[2] The gentleman, lately before the public, who kept his Joint-Stock Tea Company all to himself, singing "Te solo adoro."
[3] Sir John Newport.
[4] This charge of two pipes of port for the sacramental wine is a precious specimen of the sort of rates levied upon their Catholic fellow- parishioners by the Irish Protestants. "The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine."
|
|
Printable Page
Add Your Thoughts on this poem.
This page viewed 383 times.
|
|
