The Sun.
London, England, 1857-12-03 00:00:00

THE PROMISED REFORM !

Who fears to look at 'SS,
And England's new Reform ?
The man who hints—" We'd better wait"—
Is but a slave--a worm

For what is Palmerston to us
If he deceive the land ?
He's nothing better than a Russ,
Or German, to command.

We want an honest man to rule,
And hold his promise dear;
We'll have no knavo to play the fool,
Let him be Prince or Peer.

For England hates all sorts of guile -
Her promise she will keep
With faith untainted—as her isle
Is guarded by the deep.
Her honour stands untarnished yet—
That honour is her boast ;
And though oppressive be her debt,
She scorns to shirk the cost.

No !—England w:11 her right defend,
Repudiate no fair claim,
But will have justice in the end,
And put her foes to shame.

Then why should he who rules the roast
Insult us with a sham,
And promise, with an air of boast,
Reform by way of flam ?

The game is up, if false he prove—
For people, prince, and all
Will spurn the man who bilked their love,
And kick him in his fall.

A certain gentleman, 'tis said,
Believes—but trembles too—
And Palmerston may feel afraid
At what he dreads to do.

" Who wants Reform ?"—the Bishops cry ;
" Not we !"—so say the Lords.
And for the Commons—" All my eye !
" Reforms are empty words.
" The people must reform themselves
" Before they look to us ;
" The thing's got up by talking elves,
" Who like to make a fuss."

But hear the people—what say they
" Reform we'll have at last ;
The Ballot first—and, well-a-day !
The rest will follow fast."

As all must pay, with life at stake,
Prepared in peace or war,
The safer conduct is to make
Men happier than they are.

Half-measures—palliatives, won't do
Nor promise-make-believe ;
Let's hare the bill, or you may rue
The day you most deceive.
Wo want but justice—favour none,—
Respecting those iu power ;
With conscience free—save God alone,
And equal laws,—no more.

We want no shuiliers, great or small,
To play us thimble-rig ;
An honest Tory, after all,
Seems better than a Whig !

As for your Radical, so pure—
Who scarcely knows his mind,
Till some " mistake" his fancy lure—
Then mark—how blows the wind I

Consistency—the cant of knaves—
Sounds well—while well to do :
But let a change come o'er the waves,
His conscience changes too !

There's no reform required by men
Who pocket thousands clear ;
But those who want a place —why, then,
Just hint at one next year.

And buy them up ;—if not with gold—
A title—promise—praise :
Some modest merit won't be sold,
But swerves by devious ways.

" This is no time for mending laws ;
" Hiudostan needs the rein;
" And currency that is and was,
" Has broken down again !

" And hasty legislation mars
" Its purpose,—does no good ;
" Besides, we're overhead in wars,
" And people cry for food.!
" You see, we hate (plain truth to tell)
" Your Charter ; point by point
" Won't do ; and laws that have worked well
" May ho put out of joint."

How long our confidenee abase—
The path of duty shirk ?
Bad people always find excuse
Like lazy ones to work.

" Let well alone ! " exclaims the Poor—
'Tis well for him, no doubt ;

But for the poor—what charm will cheer
Existence—dying out ?
Can ho sustain his wife, his child,
On promise, and be quiet I
Nature revolts, and turns him wild—
Sarvation runs to riot.

And heaven above, and earth below,
May pity the forlorn,
Whose only solace is to know
That "man was made to mourn !"

But hold : the Premier wants fair play ;
His is no easy task :
Let him but once more have his way,
He'll double what you ask !

So yield your birthright—men who fought
And weathered many a storm ?
No f—husband freedom dearly bought,
And nurse it by Reforin I

-ODRUII.