And can you barter fair renown
For such vile dross? and can you sell
Your soul for this sporad of hell?
Renounce your birthright for a mess
Of pottage which no tongue can bless?
Take warning from those gone before!
Remember Southey, Wordsworth, Moore,[o]
And others warped by gold accurst,
But none so basely as the first:
For Southey, in young manhood’s glee,