A PANEGYRIC ON PARLIAMENT.

The Papers daily I peruse,
Because I wish to learn the news,
That up to last night I may be
Informed in current History.

The Parliamentary Debates
Are quite a feast, which never sates;
As tea and toast or morning roll
Refresh my frame, so they my soul.

As full as any eggs of meat,
I find the intellectual treat
Which every orator affords,
Both in the Commons and the Lords

The speakers, each one, so condense
Their flow of lucid eloquence,
That when I skin it o’er, I seem
As though I were enjoying cream.

How many thoughts in words how few,
How many phrases, neat and new,
Which render high conceptions plain,
Their speeches brief and terse contain!

Their logic, too, is oh, how sound!
At once perspicuous and profound,
Close to the point they always keep,
Intelligible when most deep.

No crotchets any men display
In either House; what sense Earl Grey,
Renowned for colonies improved,
Talked, the Amendment when he moved.

D’Israeli, too, both just and wise,
How fairly does he criticise
The other party’s acts and deeds,
And business ne’er with talk-impedes.

The gentlemen from Erin’s Isle,
The Powers that be who ne’er revile,
The public weal alone in view,
Contend but for the Good and True.

In every fresh debate I find,
Still something to improve my mind:
The only fault of that good stuff,
Is that I never have enough.

One runs it through a deal too soon,
Sometimes before the afternoon;
All night if members talked away,
The papers we could read all day.

But if they say their say too fast,
The more good measures thence are passed,
Well, therefore, may we be content
With our sententious Parliament.

Punch magazine