The poet’s attachment to his patron inspired a tender elegiac song of which the following translated verses are a specimen:—
As I awake it is not sleep
That strives with me in troubles deep;
My bed beneath the tears I weep
Is in disquiet:
My bed beneath, &c.
Of him, my patron bright, bereft,
I have no fair possession left;
While pain of loss my soul has cleft
In sight and hearing: