XXVII.

"Shall I be left forgotten in the dust, When Fate, relenting, lets the flower revive? Shall Nature's voice, to man alone unjust, Bid him, though doom'd to perish, hope to live? Is it for this fair Virtue oft must strive With disappointment, penury, and pain? No: Heaven's immortal spring shall yet arrive And man's majestic beauty bloom again, Bright through th' eternal year of Love's triumphant reign."