Page:To Bourkes Statue.djvu/5

 You've left the land, and where, none know nor care Stop where you are, 'twill be Australia's gain Your pension pilfer, don't come back again.—

What modern Œdipus the riddle solves That riddle on whose con the weight devolves, To raise or lower the steelyard of the state To ink to Zero or to raise it Great:— Cold sweats 'tis said reduced him two stone less Since Cowper's motion plunged him in a mess— Had he but kept to cutlets and small beer With tongue fast fettered, he had nought to fear But mad ambition and the greed for gain Have proved at once his antidote and bane— He too be pensioned for his work and worth, Of such live stock may Sydney have a dearth— A wondrous digit is that number nine; In mystic circle or the magic line Others than Wizard of the North divine That 6 inverted still is number nine; But when applied to bonded eau de vie A light clears up a seeming mystery, 'Tis true yet strange that wonders never cease From herbe of Holloway to Bruin's grease The simples' virtue and the pure supply Like statesman Riddle, turn out "all my eye," And "Betty Martin" Martin great in song— Who solved this riddle?—Profits Dan and Long.

The cork is drawn the Treasurer's bottled lore Now pours in bumpers from his cellar'd store Old classic cribs are conjured from the dust But countless folios won't remove the rust, Spell, Spout, and splutter for your hireling clan Your peroration ends where you began——

Haste dummy Stirling quick your harness doff Ere upstart Denison should lug it off (But little wisdom Downing-street I fear Translates this quondum Gaoler-General here