“Fairly and softly,” Peel he cried, But Peel he cried in vain; The trot became a gallop soon, And Free Trade flew amain. Then giving up, as needs he must Who cannot help his plight Peel seized Free Trade, and like a shot Flew past Protection quite. Free Trade, who by a Tory lord Had ne’er been cross’d before, What thing upon his back had got Did wonder more and more. Away went Robert――neck or nought Past Radical and Whig; He little thought when he began His bill would be so big. The _Post_ did bark, the _Herald_ scream’d, Out spoke the farmers all, And every Duke cried out “For shame!” As loud as he could bawl. Away went Robert! Who but he? Free Trade still gaining ground, He carries weight――he’ll win his race, His horse’s wind is sound. Still, as Division-day drew near ’Twas wonderful to view How overboard the men in place Their old convictions threw. Thro’ manufactures of all kinds His gambols he did play, And came to Corn Laws at the last, Which stood dead in the way. The sliding-scale he knock’d about Unto his friend’s dismay, And fix’d how that at three years’ end The tax should die away. Free Trade, not satisfied at all To wait for three years more, Straight galloped off with all his might, As he had done before. Away went Robert, with the League Still thundering at his heel, Insisting loud in total and Immediate repeal. The county members in the House, Thus seeing Robert fly, With Lord John Russell in his rear, Set up a hue and cry: “Stop thief! Stop thief! a highway man:” Not one of them was mute, And Ben D’Israeli and Colquhoun Did join in the pursuit. In the “Protection” heavy coach, The Upper House gave chase; But Free Trade’s bottom, bone, and wind, Made it a hopeless race. The race is run, the race is won With credit and renown; Nor did Free Trade draw breath until The Corn Laws he ran down. Now let us sing “Long live the League, And Cobden, long live he, And when Peel next doth ride Free Trade, May _Punch_ his Laureat be.” _Punch._ February 14, 1846. ―――― THE MODERN PEEPING TOM. Lord Trallala a noble was, Of credit and renown, A brave old Volunteer was he Of famous London town. A well known connoisseur was he Of things antique and fine――a His taste was good in rare old wine. Old women, and old china. A noted champion was he, Of damsels in distress; But as Companion of the Bath He got into a mess. A witch there was in Bond Street dwelt, Whom RACHEL men did call; She took in women young and old, And beautified them all. With powders and with cosmetique, And eastern bloom of Ninon; And added to their tresses bright The decorative chignon.