Society's a gridiron; fools to please,
Wise men must sometimes lie as ill at ease
As might a new St. Lawrence."
A buzz, a bustle! How the crowd makes way,
And parts in lines as on some pageant day!
'Tis the Great Man, none other,
"Bland, beaming, bowing quick to left and right;
One hour he'll deign to give from his brief night
To flattery, fuss and pother.
"Though the whole mob does homage, more than half