O You! whom vanity’s light bark conveys On fame’s mad voyage by the wind of praise, With what a shifting gale your course you ply, Forever sunk too low, or borne too high! Who pants for glory finds but short repose, A breath revives him, and a breath o’er-throws.

Here the Marquis concluded his adventures. Lorenzo, before he could determine on his reply, passed some moments in reflection. At length he broke silence.