PGETRY.

IT was in the evening sky

Of a bright day in July,

When Rads. and Bishops marshall'd to form their godless line.

And the Primate Tait was there, With his Presbyterian glare ;

And York and Cairns and Selborne in the traitorous work combine.

The fight had badly sped, In that mansion of the dead, Where twaddle and decorum arc the order of the day; But many wisely thought That when again 'twas fought, The good old House of Commons yet would prove our refuge and our stay.

The wretched Quaker Gurney First began the tourney,

And Huguessen and Hardy could scarcely raise a cheer;

But who is this comes bounding, With voice like trumpet sounding ?

Sure—'tis our long-lost leader—yes--brave William is here.

Oh! 'twas sweet to hear the cheering As he glanc'd at cruel Baring,

And showed how fussy Gloster had left us in the lurch,

And when he hoped that Dizzy Would have learned his " Catechizzy," In case on Sunday afternoon he might chance to go to church.

Down with these Bishops, down, , Base minions of the Crown !— " Lous Deo" that to-day their backs have felt the rod.

There is wail in Fulham bowers, There is woe in Lambeth towers, Where they feast in coats of purple and despise the Church of God.

Then death to this vile Bill, And hail our glorious Will !

Who has thus returned to raise us from our low estate ; And tho' Bishops feign to laugh, We'll kill the fatted calf, For the Prodigal is better than "the elder brother" Tait.