Pride is still aiming at the best houses: Men would be angels, angels would be gods. Aspiring to be gods, if angels fell; aspiring to be angels men rebel.

In pride, in reas'ning pride, our error lies; All quit their sphere and rush into the skies. Pride still is aiming at the bless'd abodes, Men would be angels, angels would be gods.

Thus unlamented pass the proud away, The gaze of fools and pageant of a day; So perish all, whose breast ne'er learn'd to glow For others' good, or melt at others' woe.

What the weak head with strongest bias rules, Is pride, the never-failing vice of fools.

For fools rush in where angels fear to tread

Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.