his meal nigh o’er. 
    When, lo! there came a tapping at the door: 
        “Come in!” he cried,
        And in another minute by his side
    Stood John the footboy, with the morning paper,
    Wet from the press.  O’er Roebuck’s cheek
      There passed a momentary gleam of joy,
    Which spoke, as plainly as a smile could speak,
      “Your master’s speech is in that paper, boy.” 
    He waved his hand—­the footboy left the room—­
    Roebuck pour’d out a cup of Hyson bloom;
    And, having sipp’d the tea and sniff’d the vapour,
    Spread out the “Thunderer” before his eyes—­
    When, to his great surprise,
    He saw imprinted there, in black and white,
      That he, THE ROE-buck—­HE, whom all men knew,
    Had been expressly born to set worlds right—­
      That HE was nothing but a parvenu. 
    Jove! was it possible they lack’d the knowledge he
    Boasted a literary and scientific genealogy! 
    That he had had some ancestors before him—­
    (Beside the Pa who wed the Ma who bore him)—­
    Men whom the world had slighted, it is true,
        Because it never knew
    The greatness of the genius which had lain,
    Like unwrought ore, within each vasty brain;
    And as a prejudice exists that those
    Who never do disclose
    The knowledge that they boast of, seldom have any,
    Each of his learned ancestors had died,
    By an ungrateful world belied,
    And dubb’d a Zany. 
        That HE should be
        Denied a pedigree! 
    Appeared so monstrous in this land of freedom,
    He instantly conceived the notion
    To go down to the House and make a motion,
    That all men had a right to those who breed ’em.

* * * * *

    Behold him in his seat, his face carnation,
    Just like an ace of hearts,
    Not red and white in parts,
    But one complete illumination. 
    He rises—­members blow their noses,
    And cough and hem! till one supposes,
    A general catarrh prevails from want of ventilation. 
  He speaks:—­
    Mr. Speaker, Sir, in me you see
    A member of this house (hear, hear),
    With whose proud pedigree
    The “Thunderer” has dared to interfere. 
    Now I implore,
    That Lawson may be brought upon the floor,
    And beg my pardon on his bended knees. 
    In whatsoever terms I please.
        (Oh! oh!)
        (No! no!)
        I, too, propose,
        To pull his nose: 
    No matter if the law objects or not;
    And if the printer’s nose cannot be got,
      The small proboscis of the printer’s devil
      Shall serve my turn for language so uncivil! 
          The “Thunderer” I defy,
          And its vile lie. 
      (As Ajax did the lightning flash of yore.)
      I likewise move