And courting glory from the tinkling string,
But faintly shadows an immortal soul, 330
With empire’s self, to pride, or rapture, fired.
If nobler motives minister no cure,
Even vanity forbids thee to be vain.
High worth is elevated place: ’tis more;
It makes the post stand candidate for thee;
Makes more than monarchs, makes an honest man;
Though no exchequer it commands, ’tis wealth;
And though it wears no riband, ’tis renown;