We take no count of sorry scribes, nor waste one thought upon the groundlings;
Our eyes are lifted from the multitude, groping in the dark with candles,
To gaze upon that firmament of praise, the constellated lamps of learning.
Ever-during witnesses of Mind, undisputed evidence of Power,
Goodly volumes, living stones, build up their author's temple;
Though of low estate, his rank is above princes,—though needy, he hath worship of the rich,
When Genius unfurleth on the winds his banner as a mighty leader.
Just in purpose, and self-possessed in soul, lord of many talents,
The mental Crœsus goeth forth, rejoicing in his wealth;
Keen and clear perception gloweth on his forehead like a sunbeam,