Or is it pride? Pursue some nobler aim. 160
Dismiss your parasites, who praise for hire;
And earn the fair esteem of honest men,
Whose praise is fame. Form’d of such clay as yours,
The sick, the needy, shiver at your gates.
Even modest want may bless your hand unseen, 165
Tho’ hush’d in patient wretchedness at home.
Is there no virgin, grac’d with every charm
But that which binds the mercenary vow?
No youth of genius, whose neglected bloom