There Is The Heat Of Love, The

Men Are So Quick To Blame The Gods: They Say That We Devise Their Misery. But They Themselves- In Their Depravity- Design Grief Greater Than The Griefs That Fate Assigns.

Urge Him With Truth To Frame His Fair Replies And Sure He Will For Wisdom Never Lies.

It Is Entirely Seemly For A Young Man Killed In Battle To Lie Mangled By The Bronze Spear. In His Death All Things Appear Fair.

Rather I'd Choose Laboriously To Bear A Weight Of Woes, And Breathe The Vital Air, A Slave To Some Poor Hind That Toils For Bread, Than Reign The Sceptred Monarch Of The Dead.

Young Men's Minds Are Always Changeable, But When An Old Man Is Concerned In A Matter, He Looks Both Before And After.