Low ambition and the thirst of praise. - William Cowper

Praise enough To fill the ambition of a private man, That Chatham's language was his mother tongue.

Be trusted with the Lord.
Wait for His seasonable aid,
And though it tarry, wait:
The promise may be long delay'd,
But cannot come too late.

I am monarch of all I survey,
My right there is none to dispute,
From the centre all round to the sea,
I am lord of the fowl and the brute.
O solitude! Where are the charms
That sages have seen in thy face?
Better dwell in the midst of alarms,
Than reign in this horrible place.