So, lest I be inclined To render ill for ill,- Henceforth in me instil, O God, a sweet good-will To all mankind.

But I account it worth All pangs of fair hopes crost- All loves and honors lost,- To gain the heavens, at cost Of losing earth.

'What is wealth?' the king would say, 'Even this shall pass away'.

I won a noble fame; But with a sudden frown, The people snatched my crown, And, in the mire, trod down My lofty name.