And longer had he droned--but, with a frown
Brougham impatient rose;
He threw the bench of snoring bishops down,
And, with a withering look,
The Whig-denouncing trumpet took,
And made a speech so fierce and true,
Thrashing, with might and main, both friend and foe;
And ever and anon he beat,
With doubled fist his cushion'd seat;
And though sometimes, each breathless pause between,
Astonished Melbourne at his side,
His moderating voice applied,
Yet still he kept his stern, unalter'd mien,
While battering the Whigs and Tories black and blue.
Thy ravings, Goulburn, to no theme were fix'd.
Not ev'n thy virtue is without its spots;
With piety thy politics were mix'd,
And now they courted Peel, now call'd on Doctor Watts.
With drooping jaw, like one half-screw'd,
Lord Johnny sate in doleful mood,
And for his Secretarial seat,
Sent forth his howlings sad, but sweet
Lost Normanby pour'd forth his sad adieu;
While Palmerston, with graceful air,
Wildly toss'd his scented hair;
And pensive Morpeth join'd the sniv'lling crew.
Yet still they lingered round with fond delay,
Humming, hawing, stopping, musing,
Tory rascals all abusing,
Till forced to move away.
But, oh! how alter'd was the whining tone
When, loud-tongued Lyndhurst, that unblushing wight,
His gown across his shoulders flung,
His wig with virgin-powder white,
Made an ear-splitting speech that down to Windsor rung,
The Tories' call, that Billy Holmes well knew,
The turn-coat Downshire and his Orange crew;
Wicklow and Howard both were seen
Brushing away the wee bit green;
Mad Londonderry laugh'd to hear,
And Inglis scream'd and shook his ass's ear
Last Bobby Peel, with hypocritic air,
He with modest look came sneaking:
First to "_the Home_" his easy vows addrest,--
But soon he saw the _Treasury's_ red chair,
Whose soft inviting seat he loved the best.
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