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 What then? must I defer to pedant rule, And own that love transforms me to a fool? Not I, so help me! By the gods I swear, The nymph I love is fairest of the fair; Wise, witty, dearer to her poet's sight Than piles of money on an author's night; Must I not love her then? Let the dull sot, Who made the law, obey it! I will not.—

(Book xiii. § 14, p. 901.)

Love, the disturber of the peace of heaven, And grand fomenter of Olympian feuds, Was banish'd from the synods of the gods: They drove him down to earth at the expense Of us poor mortals, and curtail'd his wings To spoil his soaring and secure themselves From his annoyance—Selfish, hard decree! For ever since he roams th' unquiet world, The tyrant and despoiler of mankind.—

(Book xiii. § 14, p. 901.)

The man who holds true pleasure to consist In pampering his vile body, and defies Love's great divinity, rashly maintains Weak impious war with an immortal god. The gravest master that the schools can boast Ne'er train'd his pupils to such discipline, As Love his votaries, unrivall'd power, The first great deity—and where is he, So stubborn and determinedly stiff, But shall at some time bend the knee to Love, And make obeisance to his mighty shrine?

