Whenever royal spouses bicker,
Both should try the magic liquor.

AN OLD BOAR (aside.)

A miserable state is that of pigs,

For if their drivers would tear caps and wigs, The swine must bite each other's ear therefor.

AN OLD SOW (aside.)

A wretched lot Jove has assigned to swine, Squabbling makes pig-herds hungry, and they

dine

On bacon, and whip sucking pigs the more.

CHORUS.

Hog-wash has been ta'en away;

If the Bull-Queen is divested,
We shall be in every way

Hunted, stript, exposed, molested:
Let us do whate'er we may,

That she shall not be arrested.

QUEEN, we entrench you with walls of brawn, And palisades of tusks, sharp as a bayonet. Place your most sacred person here. We pawn Our lives that none a finger dare to lay on it.

Those who wrong you, wrong us;

Those who hate you, hate us;

Those who sting you, sting us;

Those who bait you, bait us;

The oracle is now about to be

Fulfilled by circumvolving destiny;

Which says: "Thebes, choose reform or civil war, When through your streets, instead of hare with

dogs,

A CONSORT-QUEEN shall hunt a KING with

hogs,

Riding upon the IONIAN MINOTAUR."

Enter IONA TAURINA.

IONA TAURINA (coming forward.)

Gentlemen swine, and gentle lady-pigs,
The tender heart of every boar acquits
Their QUEEN, of any act incongruous
With native piggishness, and she reposing
With confidence upon the grunting nation,
Has thrown herself, her cause, her life, her all,
Her innocence, into their hoggish arms;
Nor has the expectation been deceived

Of finding shelter there. Yet know, great boars, (For such whoever lives among you finds you, And so do I) the innocent are proud!

I have accepted your protection only
In compliment of your kind love and care,
Not for necessity. The innocent

Are safest there where trials and dangers wait;
Innocent queens o'er white-hot ploughshares tread
Unsinged; and ladies, Erin's laureate sings it,

Rich and rare were the gems she wore."

See Moore's Irish Melodies.

Decked with rare gems, and beauty rarer still,
Walked from Killarney to the Giant's Causeway,
Through rebels, smugglers, troops of yeomanry,
White-boys, and Orange-boys, and constables,
Tithe-proctors, and excise people, uninjured!
Thus I!-

Lord PURGANAX, I do commit myself
Into your custody, and am prepared
To stand the test, whatever it may be!

PURGANAX.

This magnanimity in your sacred majesty
Must please the pigs. You cannot fail of being
A heavenly angel. Smoke your bits of glass,
Ye loyal swine, or her transfiguration

Will blind your wondering eyes.

Know that my foes even thus prepare their fall!

[Exeunt omnes

SCENE II.

The interior of the Temple of FAMINE. The statue of the Goddess, a skeleton clothed in party-coloured rags, seated upon a heap of skulls and loaves intermingled. A nurier of exceedingly fat Priests in black garments arrayed on each side, with marrow-bones and cleavers in their hands. A flourish of trumpets.

Enter MAMMON as Arch-priest, SwELLFOOT, DAKRY, PURGANAX, LAOCTONOS, followed by IONA TAURINA guarded. On the other side enter the Swine.

CHORUS OF PRIESTS,

(accompanied by the Court Porkman on marrow-bones and cleavers.)

Goddess bare, and gaunt, and pale,

Empress of the world, all hail !

What though Cretans old called thee

City-crested Cybele?

We call thee FAMINE!

Goddess of fasts and feasts, starving and cram

ming;

Through thee, for emperors, kings, and priests

and lords,

Who rule by viziers, sceptres, bank-notes, words, The earth pours forth its plenteous fruits,

Corn, wool, linen, flesh, and roots.

Those who consume these fruits through thee grow fat,

Those who produce these fruits through thee

grow lean,

Whatever change takes place, O, stick to that!

And let things be as they have ever been; At least while we remain thy priests, And proclaim thy fasts and feasts! Through thee the sacred SWELLFOOT dynasty Is based upon a rock amid that sea Whose waves are swine-so let it ever be!

[SWELLFOOT, &c. seat themselves at a table, magnifi cently covered at the upper end of the temple. Attendants pass over the stage with hog-wash in pails. A number of Pigs, exceedingly lean, follow them licking up the wash.

MAMMON.

I fear your sacred majesty has lost

The appetite which you were used to have.
Allow me now to recommend this dish-
A simple kickshaw by your Persian cook,
Such as is served at the great King's second table.
The price and pains which its ingredients cost,
Might have maintained some dozen families
A winter or two-not more-so plain a dish
Could scarcely disagree.

SWELLFOOT.

After the trial,

And these fastidious pigs are gone, perhaps

I may recover my lost appetite.

I feel the gout flying about my stomach;
Give me a glass of Maraschino punch.