Faint heart ne'er won fair lady, if in love you would
have luck,
In wooing, as in warfare, trust in nothing else than pluck.

(1871).




"NUNC TE BACCHE CANAM."

'Tis done! Henceforth nor joy nor woe
Can make or mar my fate;
I gaze around, above, below,
And all is desolate.
Go, bid the shattered pine to bloom;
The mourner to be merry;
But bid no ray to cheer the tomb
In which my hopes I bury!

I never thought the world was fair;
That 'Truth must reign victorious';
I knew that Honesty was rare;
Wealth only meritorious.
I knew that Women _might_ deceive,
And _sometimes_ cared for money;
That Lovers who in Love believe
Find gall as well as honey.