'TIS not by Splendor, or by State,
Majestick Mien, or lofty Gate
My Muse takes Measure of a King:
If Wealth or Height or Bulk will do,
She calls each Mountain of
A more Exalted thing.
Frown on me, Friend, if e're I boast
O're Fellow Minds, enslav'd in Clay,
Or swell when I shall have ingross't
A larger Heap of Shining Dust,
And wear a bigger Load of Earth than they.
Let the vain World Salute me loud,
My Thoughts look inward, and forget
The Sounding Names of High and Great,
The Flatteries of the Crowd.