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[Through dismal nights, and long laborious days]

Through dismal nights, and long laborious days,
A weary Workman at the forge of Thought,
He toils, till brain and spirit overwrought,
Sink to enforced inaction, and the maze
Of troublous dreams;—no nimble Fancy plays
Her necromantic tricks which lead to naught
But stale delusions; bitter years have taught
His heart the hollowness of casual praise;
And yet, even this poor boon's denied him now;—
Bound by Convention's hard and galling rule,
He must subdue his nature, smooth his brow,
List meekly while an ignorant Pedant speaks,
And though the hot blood boils from soul to cheeks,
Pay homage to a tyrant, and a fool!