An Ass, with relics loaded, thought the crowd
Knelt down to him, and straightway grew so proud;
He took to his own merit, without qualms,
Even the incense and loud chaunted psalms,
Some one, to undeceive him, wisely said—
"A foolish vanity has turned your head:
They not to you, but to the idol pray;
Where glory's due, there they the honour pay."
When foolish magistrates rule o'er a town,
It's not the man we bow to, but his gown.