"No lamps shall blaze in this spacious hall, But farthing rushlights, lank and small, Some cook-shop's dining-room shall grace, Where _Mister_ Mayor, with sword and mace, And all the Corporation sinners, By city contract clothed and fed, Shall dine at eighteen pence a-head, And feel quite grateful for their dinners. While the armour-man, like a turtle starv'd. Shall rattle his bones in his iron shell, And no more shall feast on baron of beef, But _stand_ content with the cook-shop smell!" VII. Thus having said his terrible say, The horrible spectre stalk'd away, And left me in the blues; And as across the Hall he pass'd, E'en Gog and Magog stood aghast, And trembled in their shoes. VIII. Oh, dreadful night! Oh, fearful sight! To see that sight, and hear that say, An Alderman's soul it may well dismay. I felt as opprest With a pain in my chest, And as brimful of terror and ills, As if I had eaten some venison old, Or swallow'd a gallon of turtle cold, Or been poison'd by Morison's Pills. IX. I tried to rise, and I scream'd a scream, The man at the gate came staggering in— "To be sure I did, for I heard a din; And your worship gave such a terrible snore, While you laid on your back on the Guildhall floor, That it woke you up from your _dream_!" [Illustration: Wine in a Ferment and Spirits in Hot Water. ] [Illustration: _APRIL._—Greenwich Park. ]