But this fine vein cannot be seen,
Except by eyes surpassing keen.
Some things are better understood
As seen by the great multitude.
The ken of Argus, (who denies?)
Was sharper for his hundred eyes.
Some for their whistle pay too dear,
If purchased where a throne is near;
Whilst Wingate, like the nightingale,
To darkness pours his mournful tale!