Decline the head, and drooping kiss the plain,—

So sinks the youth; his beauteous head, deprest

Beneath his helmet, drops upon his breast.

The Iliad of Homer. Book viii. Line 371.

Who dares think one thing, and another tell,

My heart detests him as the gates of hell.[338:2]

The Iliad of Homer. Book ix. Line 412.

[[339]]

Life is not to be bought with heaps of gold:

Not all Apollo's Pythian treasures hold,