Will gain an immortality.
Lines written under the foregoing.
And is it thus you hope for fame?
Fame like this! alas! what is it?
To give some idle thought a name,
That some good-natured friend may quiz it.
This constant craving—itch of soul—
For praise and fame makes those who catch it
Like parrots—who still stretch a pole,
That passers-by may kindly scratch it.