He stretch’d in vain to reach the prize;
Nor could he well such fish despise,
Who is so fond of Place.
Presumptuous youth! with looks intent,
Again he stretched, again he bent,
Nor saw the gulf between:
Malignant Fate sat by and smil’d
The slippery verge his feet beguil’d,
He tumbled headlong in.
Eight times emerging from the Thames,