And pity (shaded by contempt) came on.
Frail was the hero of my tale, but still
Was rather drawn by accident than will.
Some without meaning into guilt advance,
From want of guard, from vanity, from chance;
Man’s weakness flies his more immediate pain,
A little respite from his fears to gain, 40
And takes the part that he would gladly fly,
If he had strength and courage to deny.
“But now my tale; and let the moral say,