INVITATIONS TO DINNER.
On Lord Castlereagh's Calling upon his Friends to Attend Regularly, and not to Give or Accept Invitations to Dinner.
Hark! I hear the sounds of sorrow
Fill each office corridor;
Castlereagh cries—"From to-morrow,
Statesmen, ye must dine no more!
"No more let's see each office man on
Foot, about the hour of seven,
Teazing Arbuthnot and Duncannon,
To find a pair until eleven.
"No more let's hear Sir George, or Binning,
Or Huskisson, or Wellesley Pole,
Hinting, in sounds so soft and winning,
That soup and fish are apt to cool.
"Let Michael spread, in Privy-Gardens,
The board for Fergusson and Co.;
Let Sefton's cook exhaust his lardings;
They but allure away the foe.
"But some there are who never dine,
(Who ne'er are ask'd to dine, at least,)
Who swallow Ayles's tea like wine,
And reckon Bellamy's a feast.
"They can abjure risolles and pâtés,
And we must imitate their powers;
Besides, they keep their vigils gratis;
We are paid for keeping ours.
"But, Placemen! if ye heed my summons,
A mental feast I shall prepare;
Our House shall truly be, of Commons,
And Rickman's roll a bill of fare.
"Ley spreads upon the spacious table
A cloth—(no matter what its hue),
The Chaplain, fast as he is able,
Says grace, and bids us all fall to.
"Without four soups, I should be loth
Such splendid guests to entertain;
So Western shall be Barley-broth,
And Wood a Potage à la Reine!
"Mulligatawney, or Scotch porridge,
Either, Mackintosh may be;
And—(not his merits to disparage),
Spring Rice is Printanier au ris.
"For fish—that bench the Speaker's left on
Out-rivals Groves', to all beholders;
No one can see my good Lord Sefton
But thinks of a cod's head and shoulders!
"Brougham's crooked shifts, and talents boasted,
His slippery tricks no more conceal:
Dragg'd into light, cut up, and roasted,
What is he but spitch-cock'd eel?
"Calvert is Salmon—on a dish
Ne'er lay a thicker or a rounder;
Palmer's an undoubted fish,
And flat enough to be a flounder.
"Sir Ronald's Lobster, if you crack
His scarlet shell and straggling claws;
Old Markham is a muddy Jack;
And Warre and Davis Shrimps for sauce.
"Of Flesh and Fowl, too, there are plenty:—
Taylor is chick for Fricasees;
Coke's Norfolk bustard may content ye;
Rutlandshire supplies us Geese!
"Nugent would a meal afford one
Who liked Calves-head without the brain;
Rump-steaks we'll slice from generous Gordon,
There 'tis cut and come again!
"Creevey's Tripe, unsavoury stuff,
Fit meat alone for dog or cat he;
Henry Bennett is a Puff;
And Ossulston a petit pâté.
"Hobhouse is Cow-heel—which to cram
Would need a true Saint Giles's taste;
We'll put aside that dish of Lamb,
Too delicate for such a feast.
"Grant is a Sheep's pate broil'd and singed,
And none more empty or more hot is;
Hume is a monstrous bore's-head, fringed
And garnish'd round with many a nottice.
"Yorkshire puddings, rich in grease,
Are the types of Sykes and Wyvill;
Guise's brains are Gloucester cheese;
Peppery Lamberton is a devil!
"Parnell's a potato, mealy,
Thick, as ever Ireland grew;
Newport's butter-milk; and Heley
Hutchinson's an Irish-stew.
"For the rest, as housewives tell us,
How they serve their broken trash—
Wilson, Bernal, Moore, and Ellice,
Make an economic Hash!
"Come, then, hungry friends, fall to 't,
And, if patiently ye dine,
Kind Liverpool shall find ye fruit,
And jovial Bathurst choose your wine!"