 | May Fair |  |
All thy tribe, L---d Ab*rd*n,
Sense and nonsense stuck between;
Wise in all things dead and rotten,
Useful as a herring shotten;
Solemn beggars, in whose bags
All the gathering is rags.
Learning's resurrection-men,
Wielders of the church-yard pen,
Worthy of the plundered lead—
Worms, that feed but on the dead:
Sweeps, that never lift their eyes
Where the flames of Learning rise;
But beside its altar's foot
Fill their pouches with the soot.
All the crazing, and the crazed,
Hurry all—to be amazed!
Sense and nonsense stuck between;
120
Useful as a herring shotten;
Solemn beggars, in whose bags
All the gathering is rags.
Learning's resurrection-men,
Wielders of the church-yard pen,
Worthy of the plundered lead—
Worms, that feed but on the dead:
Sweeps, that never lift their eyes
Where the flames of Learning rise;
But beside its altar's foot
Fill their pouches with the soot.
All the crazing, and the crazed,
Hurry all—to be amazed!
| May Fair | |