Regard your leisure with my monument,
My Genoese, for centuries to be
Will yet retain Its reason as to day.
There, where my hope was builded, stands my Fame,
The youngest children of the youngest race.
The wide worlds heritors, arch-heirs of Time,
Pronounce my name with reverence, and call
Your sometime outcast, Father. Be it so.
Andrea's palace claims repairs perhaps,
The sculptured letters must be cut anew,