“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!
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.
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) bought and paid
By Papists for the Orange Altar!
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.
 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.”
 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.”