I forget for a moment the malice of foes
And—still better—the coldness of friends.
I feel I am great, and I know I am good,
And no longer regret my position
As statesman who’s taken to chopping of wood
And abandoned the paths of ambition.
Is it vanity prompting me? Is it self-love?
Can I, safe in my conscience, decide
That it is not such feelings my bosom that move?
Yes ... I think it’s legitimate pride.