( 60 ) 



THE TORY LAMENT, 



On CHRISTMAS CAROL FOR 1836-7. 



" FLOW, sorrow, flow ;" a flood of grief, 



In tears for all our glories 

 Now withering fast beyond belief, 



" The deluge" of the" Tories. 

 For oh ! what fearful spectres rise 



To blast our backward gaze ; 

 If onward we but cast our eyes, 



What phantoms dread amaze ! 



In five long years (ah ! long to us) 



Of hated Whig misrule, 

 What direful changes spring to curse 



A nation once our fool ! 

 These ministers of wrath divine, 



Loos'd for a people's sin, 

 How long, oh ! Lord, can'st thou incline 



Their wicked way to win ? 



First GAME LAWS fell ; eight hundred years 



Our ancestry had wove 

 Around preserves of pheasants, hares, 



Their fond exclusive love : 

 Landowners peers (how vainly !) wept 



Their rural rights' decay, 

 For one fell statute fiercely swept 



Full fifty laws away.* 



Now partridges, and hares to boot, 



Nay ! pheasants, grouse, and all, 

 Th' unqualified profanely shoot, 



Or buy at "dealer's" stall. 

 My manton, now, in grief replaced, 



Shall slumber in its case, 

 Oh ! never shall it be disgraced 



By such plebeian chase. 



Next boroughs went ; aloud the cry 



REFORM they blindly raise, 

 And parliaments insane reply 



An echo in its praise ; 

 The sober Isle's sobriety 



At that grim word is scared, 

 And " frighted from propriety" 



The peers e'en disappeared. 



Sarum, as ancient as her hill, 



And Gatton are destroyed, 

 Bold Radicals their wicked will 



O'er all the land enjoyed, 



* 1 and 2 Will. IV. c. 32. 



