You, the ruler, the democrat; You, the serf territorial; You, the crime-manufacturer; You, the grimy, uproarious, Bastard children of Albion, You, Milesian, Hibernian, You, the Gael and the Cambrian, You, the Tyke and the Tynesider, All your hearts be in harmony, All your throats shout in unison, Singing, Hail to the godlike Grand Old Man, the Obstructionist! Are there Tories raving in the distance? Are there landlords moving in the darkness? Trust the Grand Old Man to blind the people, Till the Tories fall, the landlords vanish, And the League is victor, and the darkness Falls upon the Anarchy of Ireland. _The St. James’s Gazette._ April 14, 1887. PRIZE COMPETITION PARODIES. _The Weekly Dispatch_ awarded the prize of two guineas for the best Parody of a part of Tennyson’s Jubilee Ode to the following:―― X. You, the Laureate (O Fortunate), You, the Bard-territorial, You, the Verse-manufacturer, You, whose lines so laborious Patient children of Albion Have perused in bewilderment―― List awhile to another “pote.” All your tones lack in harmony, All your verse is confusion, Sing in style less inglorious, Try these lines for the Jubilee:―― XI. Hear the thunders moaning not far distant! See the spectre Want step out from darkness! Trust we that the Right will guide our people When they reach that pass, that sceptres vanish, And the Light is Victor, and these ages Seem to them the Jubilee of Darkness! C. R. IRELAND. The following were highly commended:―― II. He revered for a genius Rare in annals of poesy, Poet Laureate of Albion, Crowned so long with the evergreens Never donned by a doughtier, Now with puerile versicles, Comes at last to inaugurate This last year of her Jubilee. VI. You, that joy in celebrity, Spare us now more inanities; Tell your Muse you have done with her, Make your countrymen happier. Give way now to the younger men, Let the critic be quieted, Let admirers be comforted, Let your Queen in her heart rejoice In this year of her Jubilee. F. B. DOVETON. ――――