That land full surely hastens to its end
Where public sycophants in homage bend
The populace to flatter, and repeat
The doubled echoes of its loud conceit.
Lowly their attitude but high their aim,
They creep to eminence through paths of shame,
Till, fixed securely in the seats of pow'r,
The dupes they flattered they at last devour.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful work of art nicely embellished with poetic rhyme and rhythm...............................................