Oh! merry day of jubilee to every little sinner, When ev'ry one receives a bun and goes without a dinner. Ah, happy England! thou'rt indeed a charitable nation, Thy charities thou dost without the slightest ostentation; How proud it makes a Briton feel to view this glorious sight, Tho' some there are too dull to share the exquisite delight. I heard a surly cynic once thus vent his angry spleen, As he with jaundic'd eye beheld the animated scene:— "If this be Christian Charity, who loves abroad to roam, "I wish, instead of coming here, that she had stay'd at home. "I'm sure she has no feeling for those wretched little dears, "Or she'd not make them into jam all in that place of _tiers_. "Whate'er Sir Robert Peel may say, or Tory folks may shout, "I'm sure the 'pressure' from within is worse than that 'without.' "But little girls may swoon away, and little boys may bawl, "None, in this age of intellect, now care for a _child's call_. "The cannibals, who eat up folks, have always made a point "To kill their two legg'd animals before they dress'd a joint; "But Christian anthropophagites possess a nicer goût, "And cook their flesh alive whene'er they make a human stew." Thus did he snarl and grumble at this glorious institution; Some enemy he must have been to Britain's constitution, For he who'd seek to work a change by pleading for humanity, Must either be disloyal or the victim of insanity. [Illustration: JUNE.—"The Queen's Own." ] PROCLAMATION DAY.