Now, said his friends, while thus his views improve,
And his mind softens, what if he should love?
True; life with him has yet serene appear’d,
And therefore love in wisdom should be fear’d;
Forty and five his years, and then to sigh 150
For beauty’s favour!—Son of frailty, fly!
Alas! he loved; it was our fear, but ours,
His friends’, alone. He doubted not his pow’rs
To win the prize, or to repel the charm,
To gain the battle, or escape the harm;