A NEW DEPARTURE

  SHOULD IRELAND SEND HER M.P.S TO WASHINGTON?

  Oh, the Irish M.P.s they are bound for the seas,
      to the country of Cleveland and Blaine,
  And I hear for a fact, their portmanteaus are packed
      and we never shall see them again,
  And Hibernia thrills through her valleys and hills
      with a passionate cry of farewell,
  While the manager weeps as they’re paying their bills,
      in the “Westminster Palace hotel!

  Though he lived all the while in the highest of style
      and was fed at his country’s expense,
  Yet he felt (did the Celt) that in Meshech he dwelt,
      and resided in Kedar its tents,
  And he yearned in his heart to be playing a part
      in a higher and holier sphere—­
  For his soul was alight with a zeal for the Right
      that we cannot appreciate here.

  Oh, the story is long of the villainous wrong
      he endured from the Sassenach reign,
  How he languished for weeks, minus freedom (and breeks),
      for supporting the Plan of Campaign;
  How, when statesmen arose, to diminish his woes,
      and the tide of oppression to stem,
  We ejected the friends who promoted his ends,
      and refused to be guided by them.

  For the Tories have won, and the party is gone
      that he ruled with his counsel and swayed,
  And there’s no one cares that for the suffrage of Pat
      or will stoop to solicit his aid: 
  So the sons of the Gael have determined to sail
      for the regions serene of the West,
  Where a Balfour’s police from their bludgeoning cease,
      and the Patriot weary may rest!

  ’Tis in Congress he’ll find the intelligent mind
      which is able to probe to the roots
  The malignant intrigue that endangers the League,
      and M’Carthy’s and Dillon’s disputes,—­
  Which is sure to postpone all affairs of its own
      and to list to Tim Healy intent
  When he takes up the tale of Compulsory Sale,
      or complete abolition of rent.

  There’ll be wigs on the green (as in No. 15)
      and the usual trailing of coats,
  For I happen to know Mr Redmond will go,
      —­by a separate service of boats:—­
  And O’Brien will show, while he jumps on his foe
      and his blood fratricidally sheds,
  That the Union of Hearts of necessity starts
      from a general breaking of heads.

  The Hibernian M.P.s are afloat on the seas,
      the debates of the West to control,
  And the thought of their scheme’s a magnificent dream
      which may calm our disconsolate soul: 
  For if ever the Yanks should return them with thanks
      and consider their presence a bore,
  We have plenty of cranks in the Radical ranks,
      and can always supply them with more!

MULLIGAN ON THE AUSTRIAN PARLIAMENT