CXXXVII.

Go to the House of Commons, or Lords,
And they seem to be busy with simple words
  In their popular sense or pedantic—­
But, alas! with their cheers, and sneers, and jeers,
They’re really busy, whatever appears,
Putting peas in each other’s ears,
  To drive their enemies frantic!

CXXXVII.

Thus Tories like to worry the Whigs,
Who treat them in turn like Schwalbach pigs,
Giving them lashes, thrashes, and digs,
  With their writhing and pain delighted—­
But after all that’s said, and more,
The malice and spite of Party are poor
To the malice and spite of a party next door,
  To a party not invited.

CXXXIX.

On with the cap and out with the light,
Weariness bids the world good night,
  At least for the usual season;
But hark! a clatter of horses’ heels;
And Sleep and Silence are broken on wheels,
  Like Wilful Murder and Treason!

CXL.

Another crash—­and the carriage goes—­
Again poor Weariness seeks the repose
  That Nature demands, imperious;
But Echo takes up the burden now,
With a rattling chorus of row-de-dow-dow,
Till Silence herself seems making a row,
  Like a Quaker gone delirious!

CXLI.

’Tis night—­a winter night—­and the stars
Are shining like winkin’—­Venus and Mars
Are rolling along in their golden cars
  Through the sky’s serene expansion—­
But vainly the stars dispense their rays,
Venus and Mars are lost in the blaze
  Of the Kilmanseggs’ luminous mansion!

CXLII.

Up jumps Fear in a terrible fright! 
His bedchamber windows look so bright,—­
  With light all the Square is glutted! 
Up he jumps, like a sole from the pan,
And a tremor sickens his inward man,
For he feels as only a gentleman can,
  Who thinks he’s being “gutted.”

CXLIII.

Again Fear settles, all snug and warm;
But only to dream of a dreadful storm
  From Autumn’s sulphurous locker;
But the only electrical body that falls
Wears a negative coat, and positive smalls,
And draws the peal that so appals
  From the Kilmanseggs’ brazen knocker!

CXLIV.

’Tis Curiosity’s Benefit night—­
And perchance ’tis the English Second-Sight,
  But whatever it be, so be it—­
As the friends and guests of Miss Kilmansegg
Crowd in to look at her Golden Leg,
  As many more
  Mob round the door,
  To see them going to see it!

CXLV.