"FRIENDLY ADVICE" TO SIR GEORGE MURRAY, &c. &c.

Saint George—and a dragon to boot !

Why Murray, man, where are thy wits ?

Take breath, and thy forces recruit, Great dealer in palpable hits !

0, fierce was the flash of thine eye, When thinking the Commons to flurry With the fear of a Scriptural cry

" The sword of the Lord and of Murray !"

Little reckst thou of history's lore • And, faith, all that twaddle of Caomwm, Which rais'd thy sweet voice to a roar,

From a saint, like thyself, did'nt come well. Some friend should have soften'd thy rant,

And have told thee that CROM WELL is known, As a soldier, whose sanctified cant Was a cloak to his thoughts of a throne.

Yet not to thee, only, Sir GEORGE,

Do the glories of humbug belong ; Didn't PORCHESTER boldly disgorge

A magnum, less lucid than long? How wel, all the follies of France

Were ranged on his logical shelves !But his Lordship forgot to advance What this had to do with ourselves.

Didn't WETHERELL talk against time ?

Nay, more, didn't BOBBY DONBAS Provoke even Prose to a rhyme, To be found nor in glass, nor in lass?

Didn't WRANGHAM break down, as he tried

The doctrines of twaddle to teach, Till the juvenile Senators cried, "Good Lord, what a shocking bad speech !"t

* "He bad always led a very active life, and that mightbe his excuse if his knowledge of history was not as accurate as that of other gentlemen, who had the ad vantage of greater leisure."—Sir G.munamr's Speech. See Times of Thursday. 1' A fact: several young gentlemen, previously to the catastrophe, were amusing themselves with the piece of slang now prevalent—" what a shocking bad bat 1" —ac applied to this Anti.Beform oration.

Didn't MALcout play pitiful pranks?

And hadn't we Mites of oration ? Didn't Eloquence flow from her Bankes,

In a strain of sublime botheration ? Did'nt BIBTHORP 'mid balderdash revel, And end with a terrible pout,

Crying—" I, Sir, declare that the Devil Could'nt get these Whig Ministers out ! ":

But why name each beautiful gander ?

Did'nt PEEL, that great man, after all he

Thought proper to prate about candour,§

Play the rogue with the speech of MACAULAY ?

But this needn't spoil our digestion—

Not much did the Baronet get, For the froth which he left on the question Was quickly blown off by BURDETT.

Thank God! we've now done with the homilies, The yarn-spinning, night after night, 'Bout the beauty of Borough-anomalies And the pangs of the Borough-men's plight. Poor devils! what now will become of 'em ?

No prize for them now in life's lottery ; Except that the simper of some of 'em May captivate still in the coterie.

I've a thought ! my lads, mingle your groans— PEEL, MURRAY, and all of your crew— Round the cauldron of marrowless bones Where SIBTHORP'S elixir he'll brew :1 ' In the fits of the flickering blaze Seek for spots on the disks of great BrtocoRAm, Whose lustre has blasted your gaze, Whose glory has plunged you in gloom !

This was the conclusion of the gallant Colonel's classic address, and the reporters in charity (it is to be presumed) omitted it.

If the friends of Sir Bonaire conceal from him the fact that his mode of dealing with the unanswerable speech of Mr. BrACAULAIr excited very great disgust, they culpably deceive him. The roars of laughter at this period of the gallant Colonel's ad tress rendered it impossible for any one not Very near him to ascertain of what mutilated body in a boiling pot he was speaking. We may remark that the reporters made short work of this great specimen of modern oratory.

The absurdity of using such alight for such a purpose is surely net greater than that evinced in the employment of —'s or —'s mental twinkle against the Chancellor.