A cell there stands, by pious founders raised,
Both for its wealth and learned rabbins praised;
To this did an ambitious bard aspire.
To be no less than lord of that blest choir;
Till wisdom deemed so sacred a command
A prize too great for his unhallowed hand.
Besides, lewd Fame had told his plighted vow
To Laura's cooing love, perched on a drooping bough;
Laura, in faithful constancy confined
To Ethiop's envoy, and to all mankind;