XLVII.

There's nought in this bad world like sympathy:

'Tis so becoming to the soul and face,

Sets to soft music the harmonious sigh,

And robes sweet Friendship in a Brussels lace.

Without a friend, what were Humanity,

To hunt our errors up with a good grace?

Consoling us with—"Would you had thought twice!

Ah! if you had but followed my advice!"

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