He won the laurels, and with them renown,
But lost them both, to shape them to a crown;
And, sworn to conquer kings, self-conquer'd fell,
When he himself the royal list would swell;
And, with the fasces, for the sceptre made
A sorry change—the substance for the shade:
Untaught what madness to the million clings,
Who forms to facts prefer, and names to things:
Triumphant for a space, by craft and crime,
Two foes he left unconquered—Truth and Time:
Oh! had he for true glory shaped his course,
He'd 'scaped repentance living—dead, remorse!