Fame was like a drug. But what was even more like a drug were the drugs.
The rest were vulgar deaths unknown to fame.
Short is my date, but deathless my renown.
Our fruitless labours mourn, And only rich in barren fame return.
The life, which others pay, let us bestow, And give to fame what we to nature owe.
But sure the eye of time beholds no name, So blest as thine in all the rolls of fame.