3380Who, but with monsters, ne'er conversed with ought,
Dared with a look, mine arm had weak'ned Fate.
But, at this feeble voice my blood does start,
And into pity melts my swelling heart.
Then name no more those words: for they at once
Do both unedge my valour and my steel.
Too safely do your virtues keep the sconce.
My steadiest thoughts, struck with these letters, reel.
My sacrilegious hand shall never stain
Virtue's sole temple, and the grace's fane.