I wouldn't be in the Reform Parliament of England for ten thousand pounds! ----, and ----, the bruiser, and the bankrupt! Oh, shame, England, shame!--Poor England! A RHAPSODY. White lady, sitting on the sea, Tell to me, oh, tell to me, How long shall thy reigning be, White lady, sitting on the sea? Long as the oak with which I'm crown'd Shall bear one leaf above the ground, Round which the crawling ivy's grasp Its cursed tendrils does not clasp; Long as one foot remains to stand Firm on its own ancestral land; Or one true man be left to claim The burden of a noble name; Long as one Gothic shrine shall rise With 'scutcheon'd tomb, and banner'd stall, Or the blest glances of the skies, Through storied casements dimly fall; Long as one heart shall beat to hear Legends of the old valiant time; Long as the Sabbath wind shall bear The music of one haunting chime. White lady, sitting on the sea, Tell to me, oh, tell to me, When shall thy downfalling be, White lady, sitting on the sea? When the vile kennel mud is thrown Upon the ermine of the king, And the old worships are cast down Before a rabble's triumphing; When toothless ---- is young again, To do the mischief he but dreams, And little ---- shall make more plain The good that glitters through his schemes; When the steam-engine of the north Leaves making essays and wry faces; And patriot Whigs forget the worth Of pensions, power, pride, and places; When on the spot where Burke and Pitt Earn'd their high immortality, Boxers and bankrupts boldly sit, Then, then shall my downfalling be. _Monday, 18th._