VESTED RIGHT.

There's strength in rock, to take the shock

Of wave, with naked brows;

There's pith in oak, to mock the stroke

Of wind, with stubborn boughs;

But where grew wood, and where rock stood

Wind blows and sea-wave ploughs.

I am not rock, I am not oak;

My roots are short and slight;

With foes more grave than wind or wave

It is my lot to fight.

'Gainst Time and Life I wage a strife—

My name is Vested Right!

And still I stand, all through the land,

With face for every foe;—

The Vestry's lord—its law my word—

I deal my "aye" and "no:"—

On Boards of Health I glide by stealth,

All new lights out to blow.

As Alderman, whene'er I can

The civic roast I rule;

My fingers fold all icy-cold

Round Charity and School;

From off the Bench, Law's sword I wrench,

And make the blade my tool.

From high St. Paul's my vision falls

Upon a world of slaves;

That foul line rounds my kingdom's bounds

With intramural graves;

Yon pall of smoke, that Heaven doth choke—

'Tis my black flag that waves!

As Kings of old, when they would hold

A Progress through the land,

Had hunting-seat or palace meet

Still ready at command;

So seats are mine, where lodgings line,

Garnished and swept do stand—

'Tis where doth stream the fœtid steam

From the bone-boiler's vat,

The knacker's yard, which penned and barred,

Sends out its odours fat;

The slaughter-vault, whence, ne'er at fault,

Peereth the carrion rat.

In tanneries' stink, on cesspools' brink,

I sit and sleep and snuff;

The fever's breath brings me no death,

I hold such terrors stuff;

The odours flung from Smithfield dung

To me smell sweet enough.

I've my own graves to take the slaves

Whom 'tis my mood to kill;

The parish may the cost defray,

Full pits my pockets ill.

I've gains allowed from shell and shroud—

Each pauper brings his bill!

When of my field an inch I yield,

I yield it nothing loath;

The vacant spot is straight a plot

For Compensation's growth—

That vigorous weed whose fruitful seed

I sow and harvest both.

While thus I rule, the good old school

Rebellious spirits tames:

My sway supports in camps and courts—

One shape of many names!

Who dares make fight 'gainst Vested Right?

Who dares gainsay my claims?