"England, a happy land we know, Where follies naturally grow, Where without culture they arise, And tow'r above the common size."

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Men famed for wit, of dangerous talents vain, Treat those of common parts with proud disdain; The powers that wisdom would, improving, hide, They blaze abroad, with inconsid'rate pride; While yet but mere probationers for fame, They seize the honor they should then disclaim: Honor so hurried to the light must fade, The lasting laurels nourish in the shade.

— George Crabbe