He threw the bench of snoring bishops down,
And, with a withering look,
The Whig-denouncing trumpet took,
And made a speech so fierce and true,
Thrashing, with might and main, both friend and foe;
And ever and anon he beat,
With doubled fist his cushion’d seat;
And though sometimes, each breathless pause between,
Astonished Melbourne at his side,
His moderating voice applied,