"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 _New_port)[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.

[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."