For what is glory but the blaze of fame

For what is glory but the blaze of fame,

The people's praise, if always

praise unmixed?

And what the people but a herd confused,

A miscellaneous

rabble, who extol

Things vulgar, and, well weighed, scarce worth the praise?

They praise and they admire they know not what,

And know not whom, but as one

leads the other;

And what delight to be by such extolled,

To live upon their

tongues, and be their talk?

Of whom to be dispraised were no small praise—

His lot who dares be singularly good.

The intelligent among them and the wise

Are few, and glory scarce of few is raised.