Thence to be soon torn—like Theseus;—PEEL, the Hercules.
Now SMITH smiles a toothy smile in little JOHNNY's place,
White the Grand Old Hercules sits watching grave of face.
He remembers Forty-One! Few, except Punch and him,
Linger from those brave old days, now distant grown and dim!
He has reached his Jubilee, as Punch this year hath done.
Veterans both, we drink each other's health in Ninety-One!
Forty-One was fierce and fiery. Young DISRAELI then
Bravely buttered stout Sir ROBERT as the best of men.
Pheugh! But in how short a time was BEN's envenomed steel