And all for gain. The man of Macedon Cleft gates of cities, rival kings o'erthrewBy force of gifts: their cunning snares have wonRude captains and their crew.As riches grow, care follows: men repineAnd thirst for more. No lofty crest I raise:Wisdom that thought forbids, Maecenas mine,The knightly order's praise.He that denies himself shall gain the moreFrom bounteous Heaven. I strip me of my pride,Desert the rich man's standard, and pass o'erTo bare Contentment's side,More proud as lord of what the great despiseThan if the wheat thresh'd on Apulia's floorI hoarded all in my huge granaries,'Mid vast possessions poor.