William Blake (1757–1827). The Poetical Works. 1908.
On Friends and FoesFor this is being a friend just in the nick
Not when he’s well, but waiting till he’s sick;
He calls you to his help; be you not mov’d
Until, by being sick, his wants are prov’d.
Do you believe it a confounded lie,
Till some bookseller, and the public fame,
Prove there is truth in his extravagant claim.
To tell you anything that he can’t prove,
And ’tis most wicked in a Christian nation
For any man to pretend to inspiration.