Now the battle of battles was won!!--O'er his foes Triumphant the lion of England arose, And gave peace to the world.--No longer, 'twas plain, The little dark man could his office retain; Reluctant he went, but he pocketed clear, In pension and place, fifteen hundred a year. He growl'd and intrigued but in vain--he is gone! Soon forgotten by most, and regretted by none: But to sink in oblivion he cannot endure, The moment seems tempting, the victims secure. Strike! strike at your friends! The foul blow it was sped, And with terrible justice recoil'd on his head. The little dark man then he set up a yell, And the Hundred of Lackford was roused by the spell; He raised up his head, and he raised up his chin, And he grinn'd, and he shouted a horrible grin, And he laugh'd a faint laugh, and his cap up he cast; But pension and sinecure still he holds fast. When a score and three days make the age of the year, To St. Stephen's, the Lords and the Commons repair: E'er a score and three more, so the King might decree The country another election may see. But the brave men of Suffolk have seen through his plan, And will baffle the arts of the little dark man. HUMPTY-DUMPTY. Rich and furr'd was the robe he wore, And a bright gold chain on his breast he bore; But, och! his speaking was far beyond Waithman himself, with his snow-white wand. "Humpty! do'st thou not fear to stray With the Lady, so far from the King's highway? Are Britain's sons so dull or so cold, As still to be cheated with tinsel for gold?" "Mistress Dumpty! I feel not the least alarm-- No placemen ever dare do me harm; For though they vote her and me a bore, They love their own heads, and their places more." On he went--in her coach to ride, While he cozen'd the Lady who sat by his side And lost for ever was she who was led By Humpty's honour--and Dumpty's head! PARODY. While Johnny Gale Jones the memorial was keeping, Of penny subscriptions from traitors and thieves, Hard by at his elbow, sly Watson stood peeping, And counting the sums at the end of the leaves. But oh, what a grin on his visage shone bright, When, after perusing whole pages of shame-- 'Midst his _soi-disant_ betters, In vilely-form'd letters, The Doctor beheld little Waddington's name!