The hero ne’er pines, but his destiny tries,
And pushes his fate with his lance in the rest,
Whether love or renown be his glorious quest.
Let not those who droop for Love
Fly in grief to wild Despair,
She, wither’d witch, can ne’er remove
The cruel unkindness of the fair.
Then with the gladd’ning ray
Of Hope’s bright star to cheer thee, [[57]]
Do thou still press thy way,