Great talents, by the rust of long disuse, Grow lethargic and shrink from what they were.
Seeking is all very well, but holding requires greater talent: Seeking involves some luck; now the demand is for skill.
Ovid lies here, the poet, skilled in love's gentle sport; By his own talents he worked his undoing. Oh, you who pass by, if ever you have loved, Think it not a burden to wish him calm repose.
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