XVII.

That is, we cannot pardon their bad taste, For so it seems to lovers swift or slow, Who fain would have a mutual flame confessed, And see a sentimental passion glow, Even were St. Francis' paramour their guest, In his monastic concubine of snow;--[336] In short, the maxim for the amorous tribe is Horatian, "_Medio tu tutissimus ibis_."[337]