There are, who build great domes sparkling with wealth,
Whose wretched pride mounts with palatial walls;
Some, yet more mean, hold riches for their health,
And tire their laded ships and creaking stalls;
Some bend their foolish steps to lofty place,
Cringe, fawn, and hope—to be despised, forgot;
These wisely think, by flattery of the base,
To help their high-placed frames, e’er low they rot:
And, others scorn the world, and serve for hire
A self-erected Heaven, whither they’d soar;
They feed on such vile thoughts, nor know the mire,—
Heaven their sole aim, and Hell sin’s only flaw:
More noble, some live by ambition’s shrine;
To ponder on thy worth, is only mine.