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May Fair

In four cantos [by George Croly]
  

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Out the wonder comes at last
Wondering how it came so fast—

118

All the world, including M*rr*y,
In a philosophic flurry;
All the botanizing belles,
All whom B*n*de provides with smells,
Priest of all the chemic loves,
Lovely in his kidskin gloves;
All the twaddlers of the Alfred,
All the quarter and the half-read;
All the paper-headed members
Shivering over learning's embers;
All Parnassus' wither'd shrubs,
All the sages of the Clubs;
All the doldrum F. R. S.'s,
Deep in duckweed, straws, and cresses;
Worthy measurers of dust—
Worthy of Sir Joseph's bust,

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Worthy to complete the ranks
Of the mighty name of B*nk*s,
Deep in nondescript descriptions,
Puzzling as their own Egyptians;
All the wiseacres on filberts,
All the world of D---s G*lb*rts;
All the guilty candle-burners,
F*tt*ns, S*b*nes, D*ws*n T---s;
Lecturers on a gnat's proboscis,
Oracles in mire and mosses;
Hunters up of Autographs—
At whose labours mankind laughs;
Delving through the hideous scribbles
Of forgotten knaves and fribbles.