“‘Biggar,’ said I, ‘Joseph Biggar, why thy most undoubted vigour, Didst thou not devote to business on thy own Ulsterian shore? Why not give to lard and bacon, all the energies mistaken, Thou from night to night art wasting on this House of Commons floor? Stick to lard! Drop legislating! This of thee I would implore!’ Quoth J. Biggar, ‘Nevermore.’ “‘Biggar,’ said I, ‘tell me truly, wilt thou always be unruly? Is there nothing thy lost senses can to thee at last restore? Wilt this chamber long be haunted by thy presence so undaunted? Or would’st thou at home be wanted if pigs fetched much less per score―― If lard fell a lot per bladder? Tell me――tell me, I implore?” Quoth J. Biggar, ‘Nevermore!’ “‘Joseph,’ said I, ‘have a care, sir, lest thou shouldst me too much dare, sir, For I give thee warning, fair sir, that if thou art much a bore, I will henceforth always try, sir, that thou mayst not catch my eye, sir, When in future thou mayst rise, sir, and stand out upon this floor!―― Stand in all thy blatant boldness on this desecrated floor; Thou shalt catch it nevermore! “But J. Biggar never stirring, went on stating and averring, Naught him staying or deterring, still his speech did he outpour, And back on my cushion sinking, I was filled with dread at thinking That this grim and greasy member might for ever harshly roar―― That this grim, ungainly, lardy man might never cease to bore,―― But talk on for evermore!” _Truth_, March 8, 1877. ―――――――― THE BABY. Once upon a midnight dreary, whilst I waited, faint and weary, On the landing till the doctor the expected tidings bore; Whilst I nodded, nearly napping, dreaming of what then was happing―― Dreaming of what then was happing t’other side yon chamber door, Stood the doctor there, and whispered, opening the chamber door, “’Tis a boy!” and nothing more. Ah, distinctly I remember, by my chilblains, ’twas December, And I stamped each smarting member, stamped it smartly on the floor. Eagerly I wished for slumber, as my feet and hands grew number; Oh, could I some bed encumber, oh, how quickly I would snore! Oh, how I would wake the echoes with my deep sonorous snore! But my vigil was not o’er. For as I thus thought of snoring, came a sound of liquid pouring―― ’Twas a sound that oft, when thirsty, I had heard with joy before; And when it I heard repeating, thro’ the darkness sent I greeting, Saying, “Who is that that’s drinking something in behind my door?”―― For the sound came from a chamber, mine erstwhile, now mine no more―― “Who are you and what d’you pour?”