Perhaps, in this neglected spot, is laid

Some heart, once pregnant with celestial fire;

Or wak'd to ecstasy the living lyre.

Rich with the spoils of Time, did ne'er unroll ;

Chill Penury repress’d their noble rage,

And froze the genial current of the soul.

Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,

And waste its sweetness on the desert air.