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The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore

Collected by Himself. In Ten Volumes
  

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159

A HYMN OF WELCOME AFTER THE RECESS.

“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!) pass'd away,
Collective Wisdom, shine again!
Come, Ayes and Noes, through thick and thin,—
With Paddy H*lmes for whipper-in,—
Whate'er the job, prepar'd to back it;
Come, voters of Supplies—bestowers
Of jackets upon trumpet-blowers,
At eighty mortal pounds the jacket!

160

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 ask'd) with Mr. Goundry.
Come, matchless country-gentlemen;
Come, wise Sir Thomas—wisest then,
When creeds and corn-laws are debated;
Come, rival ev'n the Harlot Red,
And show how wholly into bread
A 'Squire is transubstantiated.
Come, L---derd---e, and tell the world,
That—surely as thy scratch is curl'd,
As never scratch was curl'd before—
Cheap eating does more harm than good,
And working-people, spoil'd by food,
The less they eat, will work the more.

161

Come, G---lb---rn, 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 ) bought and paid
By Papists for the Orange Altar!
Come, H---rt---n, 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 wond'rous men
Of wit and wisdom, come again;
Though 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.
 

An item of expense which Mr. Hume in vain endeavoured to get rid of:—trumpeters, it appears, like the men of All-Souls, must be “bene vestiti.”

The gentleman, lately before the public, who kept his Joint-Stock Tea Company all to himself, singing “Te solo adoro.”

Sir John Newport.

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.”