Do thou, though the Blues should misdoubt thee, Resume thy first _role_ on our boards; Bind on former armour about thee, And tilt at the “lackeys and lords.” Where you stood, the True stood, It stands not where you stand; Quit Jingo, and in go For Lib’ralism grand. _Funny Folks_, March 5, 1887. ――――:o:―――― _The Banquet_, a Political Satire, by Mr. George Cotterell, was published in 1885 by William Blackwood & Sons. Like most political squibs its interest was somewhat ephemeral, but it contained several amusing parodies of Tennyson, and of Swinburne. Some of those on Tennyson have already been quoted, the following extracts are taken from a parody of Swinburne’s “Dolores,” entitled THE RADICAL PROGRAMME. (_After the Franchise Bill._) The days of the dunces are over, The wiles of the Whigs are undone, They shall lie nevermore in the clover, And bask not again in the sun; In hip and in thigh will we smite them, Our rulers who ruled us of old, And nothing shall raise them or right them, Nor acres, nor gold. They sought us with sweet condescension, They pledged us, a hand for a hand―― We were snobs, it is needless to mention, And they the best blood in the land: They bartered for place and we gave it, We staked for high game and we won, But their place goes and nothing can save it―― Our day has begun. When this beggarly bill they conceded They thought we should ask for no more; Poor fools! it was all that we needed To make us more fierce than before: Now the game is our own and we’ll make it, Not a hand will we yield, not a trick; Here’s a notice to all who will take it To clear away quick. To the Lords shall the mandate be spoken, The people’s behest and decree; For the bonds that have bound us are broken, We are mighty at last, we are free! Look, my lords, where the writing is written, On the walls of your House, on the door, You are weighed and found wanting, and smitten Behind and before. * * * * * Then hurrah for the bill that we carried, For the Caucus that carried the bill! The Lords would have tampered and tarried, But we swept them along with a will; We swept them and sweep them before us, The prize of our prowess to-day, While we march to the lilt of the chorus That bids us not stay. It was time for another beginning, So we started the world with a spin And while it goes spinning and spinning We will gather the spoils that we win; For it spins out the Whigs and the Tories, The Lords and the Church and the Crown And it spins us this glory of glories―― To tread them all down. ――――:o:―――― HYMN TO GLADSTONIAN LIBERALS.