Have ye not in memory kept How, when out into the street Hamelin’s Pied Piper stept, From his reed pass’d notes so sweet That the children all came running, Captivated by his cunning, Follow’d at his heels, and then Never more returned again? A spectacle like to that kind of thing At Westminster now is happening; The piper there, thinking the time is ripe, Tootles aloud on his festive pipe. And at once there’s a bustling and scrambling and hustling To flee in hot haste from debate and its tussling, Peers’ shoes are pattering, Commons’ boots clattering, All of them blithely of holidays chattering, Eager to show they at least have a smattering Of yachting or sport, Or pursuits of a sort That are currently thought to supply health and pleasure To overworked statesmen whene’er they get leisure. But here the case grows different; For while these children of Parliament Dance over the hills and far away Directly they hear the Piper play, Though they go to the mountain or up to the moon, They’ll return to St. Stephen’s――and that pretty soon. _Fun._ August, 1884. ――――:o:―――― POETS AND LINNETS. _After Robert Browning._ Where’er there’s a thistle to feed a linnet And linnets are plenty, thistles rife―― Or an acorn-cup to catch dew drops in it There’s ample promise of further life Now, mark how we begin it. For linnets will follow, if linnets are minded, As blows the white-feather parachute; And ships will reel by the tempest blinded―― Ay, ships, and shiploads of men to boot! How deep whole fleets you’ll find hid. And we blow the thistle-down hither and thither Forgetful of linnets, and men, and God. The dew! for its want an oak will wither―― By the dull hoof into the dust is trod, And then who strikes the cithar? But thistles were only for donkeys intended, And that donkeys are common enough is clear. And that drop! what a vessel it might have befriended, Does it add any favour to Glugabib’s beer? Well, there’s my musing ended. TOM HOOD, the younger. _Fun._ September, 1865. ―――― THE QUEST OF BARPARLO.