"By every tongue thy constancy is sung,
Thine and thy favourite's—chiefly by the young."
But lo, the future is in heaven's high hand:
Meanwhile thy graces all my praise demand,
Not false lip-praise, not idly bubbling froth—
For though thy wrath be kindled, e'en thy wrath
Hath no sting in it: doubly I am caressed,
And go my way repaid with interest.
Oarsmen of Megara, ruled by Nisus erst!
Yours be all bliss, because ye honoured first