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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

HORACE: SONG AT THE END OF ACT 3, by                    
First Line: Beauty that it self can kill
Last Line: Who are the conquer'd, with the conqueror.
Subject(s): Love; Women


1

BEAUTY that it self can kill
Through the finest temper'd steel,
Can those wounds she makes endure,
And insult it o'er the brave,
Since she knows a certain cure,
When she is dispos'd to save:
But when a Lover bleeding lies,
Wounded by other arms,
And that she sees those harms,
For which she knows no remedies;
Then Beauty sorrow's livery wears,
And whilst she melts away in tears,
Drooping in sorrow shews
Like roses overcharg'd with morning dews.

2

Nor do women though they wear
The most tender character,
Suffer in this case alone:
Hearts enclosed with iron walls,
In humanity must groan
When a noble Hero falls.
Pitiless courage would not be
An honour, but a shame;
Nor bear the noble name
Of valour, but barbarity;
The generous even in success
Lament their enemy's distress:
And scorn it should appear
Who are the Conquer'd, with the Conqueror.





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