So down went Brownlow’s railings, And down went Hazell’s beer, And from the gathering crowd upgoes One loud and lusty cheer. For carriage, gig, and dog-cart Come rushing on the scene, And all Berkhampstead hastes to see, Where Brownlow’s rails had been. And husbands, wives, and children, Went strolling through the gorse, And cried, “We’ve got our own again, Thanks to your friendly force.” They cut green little morsels As memories of the Band, Whose lusty arms and iron bars Had freed the Common land. Bold was the deed and English The Commoners have done, Let’s hope the law of England, too, Will smile upon their fun. For our few remaining Commons Must not be seized or sold, Nor Lords forget they do not live In the bad days of old. (_Seven verses omitted._) _Punch_. March 24, 1866. ―――― _The Book of Ballads_, edited by Bon Gaultier (William Blackwood and Sons, Edinburgh), contains a poem by the late Professor W. E. Aytoun, entitled _The Lay of Mr. Colt_. The story it recounts is repulsive, Colt, being condemned to death for murder, was lying in prison in New York, but on the morning of the execution he committed suicide under peculiar circumstances. The poem itself is not a parody, but it concludes with the following imitation of the closing lines of _Horatius_:―― And when the lamp is lighted In the long November days, And lads and lasses mingle At the shucking of the maize; When pies of smoking pumpkin Upon the table stand, And bowls of black molasses Go round from hand to hand; When slap jacks, maple sugared, Are hissing in the pan, And cider with a dash of gin, Foams in the social can; When the goodman wets his whistle, And the goodwife scolds the child, And the girls exclaim convulsively, “Have done, or I’ll be riled!” When the loafer sitting next them Attempts a sly caress, And whispers, “Oh! you ’possum, You’ve fixed my heart I guess!” With laughter and with weeping, Then shall they tell the tale, How Colt his foeman quartered, And died within the jail. ―――― THE GREAT DURBAR. Jan Larrens[104] of Calcutta, Chief Knight of India’s Star, Has sworn by all the Hindoo gods He’ll hold a Grand Durbar. By Gunga’s stream he swore it And named at once the day, Then bade his Aides-de-camp go forth, East, and west, and south, and north, To summon the array. (_The description of the Durbar which here follows, occupies about five hundred lines, many of which are scarcely intelligible to those who have not resided in India._)