The plaint of fond regret will scarce reprove.
Great singer, he, and great among the great,
Or greatness hath no sure abiding test.
The poet's splendid pomp, the shining state
Of royal singing robes, were his, confest,
By slowly growing certitude of fame,
Since first, a youth, he found fresh-opening portals
To Beauty's Pleasure-House. Ranked with acclaim
Amidst the true Immortals,
The amaranth fields with native ease he trod,