HARCURTIUS of the triple chin, by the Nine Points he swore

The Capital should suffer from Tory sway no more;

By the Nine Points he swore it, and named a trysting day,

And bade his messengers ride forth east and west, and south and north,

To summon his array.

East and west, and south and north the messengers ride fast;

From Kennington to Poplar they've heard the trumpet's blast.

Shame on the false Caucusian who loiters in his Club

When triple-chin'd HARCURTIUS prepares the foe to drub!

Too long the Capital hath borne the stubborn Tory yoke,

Too long the Liberals have failed to strike a swashing stroke.

Betrayed to Tory clutches by traitors shrewd and strong,

The banded foes have held it all too firmly and too long.

SALISBURIUS and GOSCHENIUS have struck unholy pact,

Foes long in dubious seeming, but ever friends, in fact,

Devonian CAVENDUS, he of the broad and bovine jowl,

Who smiled but coldly ever, now on our cause doth scowl.

Cock-nosed CUBICULARIUS, once a Captain of our host,

Now chums with bland BALFOURIUS, and makes that bond his boast.

Oh, was there ever such a gang, so motley and so mixed,

To garrison a Citadel on which all hopes are fixed?

Oh, was there ever such a call to strike one mighty blow,

To snatch the Capital once more, and lay the traitors low?

HARCURTIUS hurries onward, he waves the Grand Old Flag,

And when that banner flouts the breeze, what slave so base as lag?

GLADSTONIUS at his elbow,—not he the Old, the Grand,—

He shuns the fogs of winter in a far-off sunny land,

Nursing his force for the great fray that may right soon come on,—

This is not he of Hawarden, but the old hero's son:

There's OTTO, of the brindled beard, RUSSELLIUS swift of tongue,

RIPONIUS and LEFEVRIUS into the fray have flung.

Sleek-haired STANSFELDUS also, MUNDELLA of the Beak.

That CORVUS of the legion, good both to fight and speak,

LEO PLAYFAIRIUS follows, and brave BANNERMANUS bears

The flag he's fond of flaunting, there gallant AUCEPS dares

All that becomes a hero, whilst last, but oh, not least!

KIMBERLEYUS fares forth to the fight as others to a feast.

"Now, up!" cried stout HARCURTIUS, "Up! and we yet shall trap 'em!

Kennington calls, and Hackney, with Fulham, too, and Clapham.

I hear the cry of Chelsea, Islington North and West

Raise wails that find an echo in this mail-covered breast.

Bermondsey and Whitechapel upraise a piteous plaint:

('Wy don't our 'eroes wisit hus? We looks and there they ain't!')

North Lambeth long neglected, and Wandsworth far South-West,

(If I know where these places be I wish I may be blest!)

Appeal to us for succour: then Peckham, gallant Peckham,

Makes a far cry from her famed Rye. O brethren, shall we check 'em,

These brave suburban stalwarts whose home is in the waste

Afar from Pall Mall portals, swell Clubs, and homes of taste,

But who have Votes, my brethren? Nay, shout ye men of pith,

And strike for pining Poplar and hapless Hammersmith!"

"Quite so!" cries 'cute MUNDELLA, the corvine chief and conky,

"But he who maketh too much noise may show himself a donkey.

The Capital seems quiet, Sir, the garrison is still,

Suppose we try that old Gaul game!" HARCURTIUS cries, "I will!"

Then silently and slowly, and all in single file,

They climb towards the Citadel. HARCURTIUS, with a smile,

Hath his head o'er the ramparts, when—Great CÆSAR, what is this?

They're greeted with one loud, prolonged, and universal hiss!

The sudden sibilation out of silence startles all,

HARCURTIUS clangs his buckler, OTTO nearly hath a fall,

"Great gods, the Geese are on us, those confounded Sacred Geese,

See their long necks, twig their broad beaks! Cease, senile cacklers, cease!"

So gaspeth great HARCURTIUS, but gaspeth all in vain.

The gaff is blown, the anserine guard gives tongue with might and main.

A stir, a tramp of mailèd feet, a torch-flare! Whillaloo!

"Say, is this MARCUS MANLIUS? No, hang it, there be two,

SALISBURIUS and GOSCHENIUS, with a host, no doubt, behind,

They're on their guard, whate'er may chance, we shall not 'catch 'em blind'

Like gudgeon. No! there's not a chance of a surprise by night;

If the Gauls take the Citadel, ye gods, they'll have to fight!"

How history repeats itself! At least we must agree,

The Geese have roused the Capital? And saved it? We shall see!