BOOK OF GLOOM.
IT is a fault oneself to praise,And yet 'tis done by each whose deeds are kind;And if there's no deceit in what he says,The good we still as good shall find.
Let, then, ye fools, that wise man tasteOf joy, who fancies that he s wise, That he, a fool like you, may wasteTh' insipid thanks the world supplies.
1816.
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