Above, Ambition’s cold heights shone;
He cried, his eye on these alone,—
Divitior!
“Tempt not a path,” the preacher said,
“Which none who loves his life may tread;
The snares and chasms are deep and wide;”
But, confident, he loud replied—
Divitior!
“Stay,” said Content, “Oh stay, and rest,
Thy anxious head upon this breast:”