Still to new heights his restless wishes tower;
  Claim leads to claim, and power advances power;
  Till conquest unresisted ceased to please,
  And rights submitted, left him none to seize. 
  At length his sovereign frowns—­the train of state
  Mark the keen glance, and watch the sign to hate; 110
  Where’er he turns, he meets a stranger’s eye,
  His suppliants scorn him, and his followers fly;
  Now drops at once the pride of awful state,
  The golden canopy, the glittering plate,
  The regal palace, the luxurious board,
  The liveried army, and the menial lord. 
  With age, with cares, with maladies oppress’d,
  He seeks the refuge of monastic rest. 
  Grief aids disease, remember’d folly stings,
  And his last sighs reproach the faith of kings. 120

   Speak thou, whose thoughts at humble peace repine,
  Shall Wolsey’s wealth, with Wolsey’s end, be thine? 
  Or liv’st thou now, with safer pride content,
  The wisest justice on the banks of Trent? 
  For why did Wolsey, near the steeps of Fate,
  On weak foundations raise the enormous weight? 
  Why but to sink beneath Misfortune’s blow,
  With louder ruin, to the gulphs below! 
  What gave great Villiers to the assassin’s knife,
  And fix’d disease on Harley’s closing life? 130
  What murder’d Wentworth, and what exiled Hyde,
  By kings protected, and to kings allied? 
  What but their wish indulged, in courts to shine,
  And power too great to keep, or to resign!

   When first the college rolls receive his name,
  The young enthusiast quits his ease for fame;
  Resistless burns the fever of renown,
  Caught from the strong contagion of the gown: 
  O’er Bodley’s dome his future labours spread,
  And Bacon’s[1] mansion trembles o’er his head. 140
  Are these thy views?  Proceed, illustrious youth,
  And Virtue guard thee to the throne of Truth! 
  Yet, should thy soul indulge the generous heat,
  Till captive Science yields her last retreat;
  Should Reason guide thee with her brightest ray,
  And pour on misty Doubt resistless day;
  Should no false kindness lure to loose delight,
  Nor praise relax, nor difficulty fright;
  Should tempting Novelty thy cell refrain,
  And Sloth effuse her opiate fumes in vain; 150
  Should Beauty blunt on fops her fatal dart,
  Nor claim the triumph of a letter’d heart;
  Should no disease thy torpid veins invade,
  Nor Melancholy’s phantoms haunt thy shade;
  Yet hope not life from grief or danger free,
  Nor think the doom of man reversed for thee: 
  Deign on the passing world to turn thine eyes,
  And pause a while from learning, to be wise;
  There mark what ills the scholar’s life assail,
  Toil, envy, want, the patron, and the jail. 160
  See nations, slowly wise, and meanly just,
  To buried merit raise the tardy bust. 
  If dreams yet flatter, once again attend,
  Hear Lydiat’s[2] life, and Galileo’s end.