Which even yet the soothing hand of time
Has not assuaged. And yet it is not meet
That one so stout of heart should be o'ercome
And to misfortune weakly turn his back.
It is not valor, father, as thou think'st,190
To shrink from life; but 'gainst the mightiest ills
To stand opposed, and not to flinch or budge,
That is the truest test of manly worth.
Who tramples under foot his destiny,
Who disregards and scorns the goods of life,