My hope, my heaven, my trust must be, My gentle guide, in following thee.

O! many a shaft, at random sent, Finds mark the archer little meant! And many a word, at random spoken, May soothe or wound a heart that's broken!

For Love will still be lord of all.

Without courage there cannot be truth, and without truth there can be no other virtue.

But woe awaits a country when She sees the tears of bearded men.

Fortune may raise up or abuse the ordinary mortal, but the sage and the soldier should have minds beyond her control.

Good wine needs neither bush nor preface to make it welcome. And they drank the red wine through the helmet barr'd.