III.
PRIDE.
Proud—and of what! poor vain and helpless worm
Crawling in weakness through thy life’s brief term,
Yet filled with thoughts presumptuous, bold, and high,
As though thy grovelling soul could scan the sky,
As though thy wisdom, which can not foreshow
What one day brings of coming weal or woe,
Could pierce the depths of far futurity,
And all the wingèd shafts of fate defy!