Poem by Anonymous

Accounts Balanced

Whilst Zoilus, with canker’d spite,   
	My reputation slays,
The way that I his spleen requite, –
	Is loading him with praise.

How oddly happy is my case,
	’Tis easy to conceive,
Since whatsoever either says,
	No mortal can believe.

1. Inscription on a Gravestone in the Churchyard of Melrose Abbey
2. The Old Scottish Gentleman
3. The Sun Shines Fair on Carlisle Wall
4. The Banks o’ Glaizart
5. Old King Coul

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