And yet who is there would not feel her flame!
E'en I myself sometimes would, I avow:
And should not like to see Oblivion's finger
One day snuff out what might around me linger.
IV.
Yet after all, as I've said already,
Fame is but fume, a motion of the mind,
A very pleasant draught, but somewhat heady,
As many oft have found and yet may find;
Its only fault is that it makes unsteady