Classic Poem

Ten years ago, I knew this favourite;
And we were friends: such friends as young men are,
Who 're bound together by some wild pursuit.
But we fell off at last, when I grew grave,
And turned to study: he, being then, indeed,
Ambitious, but not winged with soaring thoughts,
Clung to some genius rising. He became
A Courtier; laid in wait for prince's smiles;
Talked soft to noble dames; flattered rich men;
And so, by dint of such poor palace tricks,
Surmounted his low birthright, and at last
Sprang on the back of Fortune.
… I, too, rose;
And fell, alas! Yet, wherefore should I grieve?
What difference is there 'twixt the now and then?
The sun shines on me as 'twas wont to do;
My strength the same, my appetite; my body
Throws down as large a shadow. Is my voice shriller?
My eye less quick? or any natural power
More dull than when I stood second to none,
Except an ungrateful master?