LII.

I won't describe; description is my "forte,"

But every fool describes in these bright days

His wondrous journey to some foreign court,

And spawns his quarto, and demands your praise—

Death to his publisher, to him 't is sport;

While Nature, tortured twenty thousand ways,

Resigns herself with exemplary patience

To guide-books, rhymes, tours, sketches, illustrations.[284]

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