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 HERE’S magic in the robe of power,
 * Ennobling every thing beneath it;

Its spell is like the Upas bower,
 * Whose air will puff up all that breathe it.

Alike it charms the horse-hair tress
 * That Turkey’s three-tailed Bashaws wear,

And hallows Clinton’s levee-dress
 * Cut by the classic shears of Baehr.59

Before its witchery, of late,
 * Our proudest politicians trembled,

When the five Heads that rule the State
 * Around the Council-board assembled.

There, arbiter of fates and fortunes,
 * Of brains it well supplied the loss,

Gave Bates60 and Rosencrantz importance,
 * And made a gentleman of Ross.

’Tis vain to win a great man’s name
 * Without some proof of having been one;