Strove hard to woo the fickle goddess there;
But now, alas! they live to blush unseen
And waste their sweetness on the desert air!
Perhaps, on that neglected range have laid
Embryo prizemen, who, if they could fire,
Might with their fame have distant empires swayed!
And, being chaired, have invoked the living lyre!
And thou, proud Duke, ’twill be indeed thy fault
If mem’ry o’er thy tomb no trophies raise!