There Pindar liv’d (great Bard!) and there he died.
“The king of Syracuse, all nations know it,
Was celebrated by this lofty poet,
And made immortal by his strains:
Ah! could I find like him, a bard to sing me;
Would any man like him a poet bring me;
I’d give him a good pension for his pains.
“But, ah! Parmenio, ’mongst the sons of men,
This world will never see his like again;
The greatest bard that ever breath’d is dead!