Bids it ascend the glowing cheek, and there
Upbraid that little heart’s inglorious aim,
Which stoops to court a character from man; 350
While o’er us, in tremendous judgment sit
Far more than man, with endless praise, and blame.
Ambition’s boundless appetite outspeaks
The verdict of its shame. When souls take fire
At high presumptions of their own desert,
One age is poor applause; the mighty shout,
The thunder by the living few begun,