His proud inflation bursts in twain, from envy’s jolts.
He strives to multiply the direful load of sin,
That, under its dead weight, he man in hell may pin.120
And when he finds unrighteousness as service told,
His torment is redoubled, heartache twenty-fold.
“Come in! A door I’ve opened for thy entrance, wide.
Thou spattest on me. I reply with favour’s tide.
On him who injured me I benefits bestow;[418]
My head I lay before the feet of friends, below;
Thou mayest conceive what gifts I hold in store for them,