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.