“That we will many a time persist In opening a Subscription List, Far-off distress to aid; Whilst those who starve about our gate, We’ll leave to their unhappy fate, And hunger unallayed. Know, too, that ere from power we start, We’ll patronise again High Art, And raise the Griffin’s counterpart To dominate the City; That Billingsgate unmoved shall stay, And block the fish-producing-way, Spite what in Parliament they say, Or argue in Committee. “Know, too, that ere all London taste This new reform, we oft will haste Funds left in Charity to waste In gorging and in guzzling; And we, as Aldermen, will mock At justice still; and surely shock Those who are bound to us to flock For our decisions puzzling. “Yes, know, ere Harcourt shall succeed, Shall many a poor man die of need, And thousands suffer for the greed Of our smug Corporation; And London for long years shall bear Fresh burdens that we still may share The plunder, and well bait the snare With which we trap the nation, Pretending that at our own cost We’ve freed the lands the City’d lost, With generous intent; Whereas it safely might be sworn No penny from our hoard’s been torn―― ’Tis duties placed on coal and corn That we’ve so freely spent!” Again, ’midst vehement applause, Did Fowler for a moment pause; Then, facing round to his brave band, And fiercely shaking his clenched hand, He with a sip his voice restored, And once again defiance poured: “Let Harcourt, Firth, and all their crew,” Cried he, “their spiteful ends pursue, I still am here, my friends, with you, My opposition to renew; And ere that Bill shall pass, Full many a brother shall secure Knighthood by rank expenditure; Full many a Scandal we’ll commit; Absorb full many a perquisite; Full many a well-known man we’ll bribe To join some Civic thievish tribe; Full many a day reforms oppose; Full many a time strike coward’s blows; And often to the nation show How small we are, how rude, how low, How stubborn, ignorant, and dense, How totally devoid of sense, And how intensely crass!” Here Fowler ceased, and sat him down, While cheers from all sides came to crown His spirited appeal; Thrice went the Loving Cup around, And thrice did fresh applause resound As those brave City Tories found Fresh impulse for their zeal! _Truth_, November 29, 1883. ――――:o:―――― LOCHINVAR This song, sang by Lady Heron, in _Marmion_, was partly founded on a ballad called “Katharine Janfarie,” which may be found in the “_Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_.”