Not hate, but glory, made these chiefs contend; And each brave foe was in his soul a friend.

But curb thou the high spirit in thy breast, For gentle ways are best, and keep aloof From sharp contentions.

Urge him with truth to frame his fair replies; And sure he will; for wisdom never lies.

Fly, dotard, fly! With thy wise dreams and fables of the sky.

Having well polished the whole bow, he added a golden tip.

Yet, taught by time, my heart has learned to glow For other's good, and melt at other's woe.