Had swelled with honour and nobility,
My love, once fixed on virtue, parents' hate
In both might shake, but ne'er evert love's state.
I aim at virtue's bliss, and if I find
The heart and bosom good, I slight the rind.
But since, Bellama, thou regard'st not me,
I scorn to cringe, adore, and flatter thee.
For he that rules his thoughts has a nobler soul
Than he that awes the world from pole to pole.
1880Thus, fair, adieu! with love these measures scan,