The conquer'd, also, and enslaved by war, Shall, with their freedom lost, all virtue lose.

But oh! as to embrace me she inclin'd, I wak'd, she fled, and day brought back my night.

All hope is lost of my reception into grace; what worse? For where no hope is left, is left no fear.

A broad and ample road, whose dust is gold, And pavement stars,--as stars to thee appear Seen in the galaxy, that milky way Which nightly as a circling zone thou seest Powder'd with stars.

The love-lorn nightingale nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well.

Reason is also choice.

Live while ye may, Yet happy pair.