STOICISM. 
© 
=© 
32 
BOX. 
Buxus. 
Language — STOICISM. 
I ne’er will weep again ! 
I will meet fate with an unblenching eye ; 
For better far in proud contempt to die 
Than idly talk of pain. 
Can I not bear all things ? 
Who talks of weakness to a soul like mine ? 
Love, hope, pity, sorrow, I resign, 
And all that fortune brings. 
In lonely strength I stand, 
Unmoved though earthquakes open at my feet; 
Though storms of malice on my bosom beat, 
I can their rage withstand. 
Anon. 
My sole resources in the path I trod 
Were these — my bark — my sword — my love — 
* my God. 
The last I left in youth : he leaves me now ; 
And man but works his will to lay me low. 
I have no thought to mock his throne with prayer 
Wrung from the coward crouching of despair; 
It is enough — I breathe — and I can bear. 
Byron. 
