The valiant, in himself, what can he suffer?
Orwhat does he regard his single woes?
Butwhen, alas! he multiplies himself,
To dearer serves, to the lov’d tender fair,
To those whose bliss, whose beings hang upon him,
To helpless children,-then, Oh then, he feels
The point of misery festering in his heart,
And weakly weeps his fortunes like a coward:
Such, such am I!-undone!
