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 ODDESS! for such thou art, who rules
 * This honest and enlightened city;

True patroness of knaves and fools,
 * To thee we dedicate our ditty.

Whether in Barclay Street thou sittest,
 * Or, on papyrean pinions borne,

Dropping mercurial dews, thou flittest
 * Around thine own anointed Horne:70

Whether, arrayed in gown and band,
 * Thy pious zeal distributes Bibles,

Or, perched on Spooner’s classic hand,
 * Writes merry eulogistic libels;

Where’er we turn our raptured eyes,
 * We see this puffing generation,

Cheered by thy smile, propitious, rise
 * To profit, power, and reputation.

Then come, ye Quacks! the anthem swell;
 * Come, Allen, with thy lottery bills;

Come, four-herbed Angelis,70 who fell
 * From heaven in a shower of pills;

Come, Geib, whose potent word creates
 * Prime analytical musicians;