Of Ferdoosee. 7 
Thou would’st have placed a crown upon 
my head ; 
Had thy mother been of noble birth, 
Thou would’st have poured down gold upon 
me; 
But the son of a slave will never forget his 
meanness, 
Tho’ he should become the father of a line 
of kings; 
From the offspring of impurity expect no- 
thing good, 
For the Ethiopian can never change his skin. 
Thirty years I toiled incessantly, 
And I have made Persia immortal in my verse. 
Mapy illustrious men and heroes, 
Of whomI have made distinguished mention, 
Men—who were eminent for rank and virtue, 
As the noble Jemsheed and the happy 
Fereedoon, 
Who all lay dead in the lapse of ages, 
Live again in my writings. (4) 
(4) So Horace 
Vixere fortes ante Acamemnona 
Multi ; sed omnes illacrymabiles 
Urgentur, ignotique longa 
Nocte, carent quia vate sacro. 
Vain was the chief’s, the sage’s pride ! 
They had no poet, and they died; 
Tn vain they schem’d, in vain they bled! 
They had no poet, and are dead, 
Pope, 
