(The trade, in its devotion, being so loyal,
It fain would stretch the fact or trifle still,
Eager, as 'twere, to get on highest hill.)
Through the fair France, through Germany, and Spain,
The blue-skied Italy, the Russias twain,
And farther still, across the Western Main.
There is the story known, engraft, 'tis true,
With things, as often is, of weight undue;
Yet still's enough, when sifted to the most,
To make the trade rejoice, and as a toast,