Wits wrote in favor of his wickedness;
And kings to do him honor took delight:
Thus full of titles, flattery, honor, fame,
Beyond desire, beyond ambition, full;
He died!—he died of what? of wretchedness!
Drank every cup of joy, heard every trump
Of fame; drank early, deeply drank, drank draughts
That millions might have quenched, then died
Of thirst, because there was no more to drink.
His goddess, nature, woo'd, embrac'd, enjoy'd;