FIRST, from each brother’s hoard a part they draw,

A mutual theft that never feared a law;

Whate’er they gain, to each man’s portion fall,

And read it once, you read it through them all.

For this their runners ramble day and night,

To drag each lurking deep to open light;

For daily bread the dirty trade they ply,

Coin their fresh tales, and live upon the lie.

Like bees for honey, forth for news they spring—

Industrious creatures! ever on the wing;

Home to their several cells they bear the store,

Culled of all kinds, then roam abroad for more.