[In 1883, when there was much talk of impending and very desirable reforms in the Government of the Metropolis, Lord Mayor Fowler gave a dinner to the City magnates. He then expressed his great surprise that Mr. Forster should have recommended him to become first Lord Mayor of the new Corporation. “Far from that,” he asserted, “he would fight the new Bill, line by line and clause by clause;” and he then proceeded to declaim to his vociferous fellow-citizens Marmion’s speech to King James.] The City Carlton merrily With wassail rung, and mirth and glee, For Tory City-Fathers there Feasted the Marquis and Lord Mayor. The spread outshone all banquets past; The wine and wit flowed free and fast; Till, ’midst approving sound, The loyal toasts were drunk in turn; And then, whilst civic hearts waxed stern, The Loving-Cup went round. And easy was the task, I trow, The Marquis’ manly form to know, When, his great courtesy to show, He drank with Fowler, bending low To meet the goblet’s brim; And City men who saw the sight, Demonstrative in their delight, Gave several cheers for him. Ere long, uprising from his chair To toast the City, Mr. Mayor Stood, in his new-found fame; But for some moments could not speak―― His Tory heart swelled nigh to break―― And presently adown his cheek A bitter tear there came. Then memory did his wrath inspire, Then burn’d his furrow’d face with fire, And shook his very beard with ire, As “This to me!” he cried. “From Forster, too, a friend who knows How I persistently oppose Reforms on every side! He little kens the thoughts that roll, Like storm-clouds, through my haughty soul, Or he would not declare That I, a City Tory true, Would of the Corporation new Become the first Lord Mayor!” Still on his cheek the flush of rage O’ercame the ashen hue of age, As he went on, “How dare he, then, Thus beard the Lion in his den―― The Fowler at Guildhall! Or thinks he Harcourt can o’erthrow, And lay our Corporation low? No! by St. Margaret Pattens, No! Up, Tories, then! What, Carden, ho! For your stout aid I call.” Then Fowler turned and laughed, “Ha! ha!” Deep quaffed the bowl and shouted “Bah! Let Harcourt know, if he dare try The City Fathers to defy, That London has its treasures great―― Its funds invested, and its plate; That turtle now is cheap as beef (That Conger _canard’s_ past belief); And that, ere his vile Bill be passed, Those hoards of wealth we have amassed Shall be entirely spent, In Swords of Honour by the score; In Golden Boxes, rained galore, In Banquets gross as those of yore, In jobs still grosser than before, And greater in extent!