Page:To Bourkes Statue.djvu/8

 Belay at Bellamy’s, imbibe the cheer, The only sort you’ll ere call forth I fear; Your flunkey stepson hover on your wake, And flush your intellect with ale and cake; Port Curtis Barataria missed your rule And Sancho Panza mounts again his mule—

Oh “cloud Capt.” Brownne, oh, passim H.H.B. What Demon tempted me to scribble thee? Oh! whipper-in at tail of every hound Where’er the carcase, you are surely found,— Ships mate yourself, a mate you found at sea, That one bright gleam reveals thy history, Proclaims the interest vested in the land Your step-sire’s mantle must on you descend— Dead Reck’ning proves the acme of your skill While living Immigrants your pockets fill,— Why Sydneyites so long can harbor thee Looms in my mind a sorry mystery.——

Supreme Attorney, oracle of law I fain a veil would o’er your portrait draw Those shrivelled features, indices of brain Pronounce, that Bigotry will prove your bane, The Jesuits cunning dictates every move And Roman tramples on the Sydney Cove—— Great J.P. architect, be warned, beware, Who live by logic, need to split a hair Your Magistrates, the benches well adorn Curs, caitiffs, cuifs, a byeword and a scorn.— ’Tis true some read, some write, or drink or swear All barter justice, where all tip is fair The master grinds the man—’tis snob prevails E’en Jilks would fail to regalateregulate [sic] the scales.— Homage to beauty and to talent’s due From Irish Judges and Attorney’s too, Whether on stage or at drop scene they act More pride of place were meet (a stubborn fact) Than panegyric pen at any price, Or keep a hostile for a cantatrice.——