By old Miletus, who so long
Has ceas'd his love-inwoven song:
By all you taught the Tuscan maids,
In chang'd Italia's modern shades:
By him whose knight's distinguish'd name
Refin'd a nation's lust of fame;
Whose tales even now, with echoes sweet,
Castilia's Moorish h lls repeat:
Or him, whom Seine's blue nymphs deplore,
In watchet weeds on Gallia's shore,
Who drew the sad Sicilian maid,
By virtues in her sire betray'd: