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 And C. B. couldn't make him drink, no more than Stone could Beecher. Brevoort has left his cloudy skies, Suydam his streams and shores, And little Lang one dimly spies, as through the crowd he bores. Says Gray to Hicks, "I'm fain to think there is a slight omission, We ought to have, with such a drink, some glowing blondes of Titian."

There's Rossiter, whose brilliant hues in old time would allure all eyes,