GUNPOWDER PLOT.

"God grant that neither we nor ours live to see the Fifth of November forgotten, or the solemnity of it silenced."-BISHOP SANDERSON.

"Oh! the Gunpowder Plot,

It shall ne'er be forgot!"

'Tis a song from my youth I remember!

And far be the day,

When my zeal shall decay

For the glorious Fifth of November!

'Twas a cowardly blow

Of a treacherous foe,

To be dealt on our Protestant nation;

But its weight never fell,

For the minion of hell

Was caught at his Popish vocation!

And our Protestant cause

Was saved from the jaws

Of the "Beast" that would feed on its failing;

And our Protestant Faith

Drew its sword from the sheath,

And followed it, wounded and wailing.

"So the Gunpowder Plot,

It shall ne'er be forgot!"

We'll sing it—and tell it—and shout it,
Though Rome will essay

To pass over the day,

And bid us think nothing about it.

With our bells by daylight,

And our bonfires at night,

We'll shew her how well we remember;

While with hearty accord

We give praise to the Lord,

For His care on the Fifth of November.

BEGONE!

A WORD TO TRACTARIAN JESUITS.

BEGONE! ye men of double heart,
We want your posts and places filling
With such, as play a better part

Than sergeants of a Popish drilling.
Make way! and tether in your train

The Romish herd you've ranged about you;

Give up your place to honest men,

Ere honest lips and language scout you!

Begone!--but just before you go,
Throw off all Jesuit pretences,

And let us but in fairness know

That Rome has paid you
all

expenses:

D

Tell them you kept your posts and pelf,
Until she made the handsome offer,
And then you reckoned with yourself
"Twas wise to take her at her proffer.

Oh! tell us not of conscience' power,
Of conscience with conviction pleading-
Where slept her echoes, till the hour
That finds you to the Harlot speeding?
Did conscience blush to take the spoil,
To finger forth our Church's money?
Was conscience pleading all the while
Ye fattened on her "milk and honey?"

Go home!-Go home!-The vain pretence
Is past an honest mind's receiving:
A libel on our common sense,

A subterfuge beyond believing!-
will maintain the word,

Or if

ye

And have your step accounted holy, Then, self-convicted, ye have erred

With less of knav'ry-more of folly!

Whichever be your piteous case,

'Tis plain ye cannot dwell among us; The Vatican will find a place

For you, and all the rest, who wrong us. Then go ye double minds-go home! Let honest-hearted men replace you, Give up coquetting thus with Rome,

And let her "Harlot" arms embrace you!