POETRY.

MORE HAWARDEN HORACE.

An JUSTINUM HISTORIAM NOSTRORUM TEMPORITM FERAGENTEM.—(0d. II. 1.) MOTU bf ex Metello consule 'Tis no milk-and-water fable to Bellique causas et vitia et That you've lately undertaken

modos to complete, anna and deceit.

Nondum expiatis uncta cruoribus, Periculosae plenum opus slew, Tractas et incedis per ignes Suppositos cineri doloso.

Paullum severae Musa tragoediae Desit theatris : mox ubi publicas Res ordinaris, grande niunus Cecropio repetes cethurno,

civicum beguile a small tea-table

gravesque fraud of Pitt's devising.

Principum amicitias et Full of devilry and danger You must tell of Leagues and leaders, of Rotunda-roan seceders, Of the buckshot and the bludgeons of the Crown And the risk you run is greater than of dancing on a crater.

If you're minded to "Re- member Mitchelstown ! "

For a while I fear to fiction you must bid a valediction,

But once you've told the tale of "Our Own Times,"—

Told it fearlessly and bluntly, you'll embark with Justin Huntly On the merriest of modern pantomimes. Insigne maestis praesidium reis Et consulenti, Polio, curiae, Cni leurns aeternos honores Delmaticopeperit triumph°.

lain nune minaci murmure cornuum Perstringis auras, lam litui strepunt, lam fulgor armorum fugaces Terret equos equitumque voltus.

Audire magnos inns videorduces Non indecoro pnlvere sordidos, Et cnncta terrarnm subacta Praeter atrocem animum Catonis.

Iuno et deorumquisqnis amicior Afris inulta cesserat impotens Tenure victornm nepotes Rettulit inferias Ingurthae.

Quis non Latino sanguine pin guior Campus sepulcris impia proelia Testatur auditnmque Media Hesperiae sonitum ruinae ?

Qui gurges ant quae flumina lugnbris Ignara bell? quad mare Danniae Non deeoloravere esedes ? Quae caret ora cruore nostro ?

Sed no relictis, Musa. procax, iocis Ceae retractes munera neniae, Mecum Dionaeo sub antro Qnaere modes leviore plectro. You'll be missed, my dear McCarthy, in the Councils of the Party ; They'll regret you when the wigs are on the green ; For you earned unfading laurels by composing endless quarrels As the Chairman of Com- mittee Room Fifteen.

My prophetic soul can image your description of each scrimmage, Hear the pipers playing patriotic tunes; Mark the stout shillelagh flatten the constabulary baton And the peasantry dispersing the dragoons !

I can hear the chiefs haranguing and the brutal carbines banging, See the hero all dietrousered in his cell, And observe with admiration the majestic isolation, The indomitable spirit of Parnell.

0 'twas cruel the Coercion, cruel too the swift desertion Of her crownless chief by Erin, fickle fair, Doomed to expiate her error 'neath a reign of Tim and terror With a "melancholy hum- bug" in the Chair.

Where's the spot. in all Great Britain which no fierce Kilkenny kitten Has empurpled with its sanguinary trail ?

Where's the parish 80 se- questered that its peace was never pestered By the fratricidal faction of the Gaol?

In what Borough or division did our cause escape de- rision In the lamentable rout of yesteryear ?

Where, alas ! was soda-water not synonymous with slaughter In the battle with the bigotry of beer ?

But a truce to themes so fear- ful, so disconsolate and tearful :

Bidding Butler a benevolent good-bye, To the Halls of the Alsatians, where Miss Loftus' imita- tions Move the gaiety of nations, let us hie.

C. L. GRAVES.