So slow, indeed, was justice in its ways, Beset by more than customary clogs, Going to law in those expensive days Was much the same as going to the Dogs! But possibly I err, And that sagacious and judicial creature, So Chancellor-like in feature, With ears so wig-like, and a cap of fur, Looking as grave, responsible, and sage, As if he had the guardianship, in fact, Of all poor dogs, or crackt, And puppies under age-- It may be that the Creature was not meant Any especial Lord to represent, Eldon or Erskine, Cottenham or Thurlow, Or Brougham (more like him whose potent jaw Is holding forth the letter of the law), Or Lyndhurst, after the vacation’s furlough, Presently sitting in the House of Peers, On wool he sometimes wishes in his ears, When touching Corn Laws, Taxes, or Tithe-piggery, He hears a fierce attack, And, sitting on his sack, Listens in his great wig to greater Whiggery! So, possibly, those others, In coats so various, or sleek, or rough, Aim not at any of the legal brothers, Who wear the silken robe, or gown of stuff. Yet who that ever heard or saw The Counsel sitting in that solemn Court, Who, having passed the Bar, are safe in port, Or those great Sergeants, learned in the Law,-- Who but must trace a feature now and then Of those forensic men, As good at finding heirs as any harrier, Renown’d like greyhounds for long tales--indeed, At worrying the ear as apt as terriers,-- Good at conveyance as the hairy carriers That bear our gloves, umbrellas, hats, and sticks, Books, baskets, bones, or bricks, In Deeds of Trust as sure as Tray the trusty,-- Acute at sniffing flaws on legal grounds,-- And lastly--well the catalogue it closes!-- Still following their predecessors’ noses, Through ways however dull or dusty, As fond of hunting precedents, as hounds Of running after foxes more than musty. However slow or fast, Full of urbanity, or supercilious, In temper wild, serene, or atrabilious, Fluent of tongue, or prone to legal saw, The Dogs have got a Chancellor, at last, For Laying down the Law! And never may the canine race regret it, With whinings and repinings loud or deep,-- Ragged in coat, and shortened in their keep, Worried by day, and troubled in their sleep, With cares that prey upon the heart and fret it-- As human suitors have had cause to weep-- For what is Law, unless poor Dogs can get it Dog-cheap? A BLACK JOB. “No doubt the pleasure is as great, Of being cheated as to cheat.”--HUDIBRAS.