Good seed of Hercules, give ear and deign,

  Thou that this age's grace and splendour art,

  Hippolitus, to smile upon his pain

  Who tenders what he has with humble heart.

  For though all hope to quit the score were vain,

  My pen and pages may pay the debt in part;

  Then, with no jealous eye my offering scan,

  Nor scorn my gifts who give thee all I can.