Volume 100 — ODE TO COMPENSATION.

Come Compensation, come! Not in thy terrors clad, But in thy fairest, gentlest guise, Thy "blessed" name but terrifies The "Templar" and the "Rad." Thou must not come as "Right," That is—alas!—"too steep." The Law has put its foot hard down, And "BUNG," so far, is quite done brown; It makes the "Witler" weep! No "Vested Interest," Whereon to found a claim? And after all that we have done To keep the Tories in the run! It is a thundering shame! We deemed Sir EDWARD CLARKE Knew what he was about; We thought good GOSCHEN, sharp and slick, Had "gently, gently done the trick," We have been sold, no doubt. But FORREST FULTON comes,— Sharp fellow that F.F.! And in the Commons sneaks a vote Which sticks hard in the "Temperance" throat,— Dull churls, to justice deaf! Come, Compensation, come! Come in by the back-door, Come unawares, come anyhow, Only do come to smooth the brow Of Wittlers weak and poor. GOSCHEN has played us false; It makes our bosom ache. But to abate our indignation If he'll secure us Compensation, 'Twill compensation make.