Chapter XVII

Adieu, fond Love! the Mother of all Error!
Replete with hope and fear, with joy and pain.
False fire of Fancy! full of care and terror.
Shadow of pleasures fleeting, short, and vain!
Die, loathèd Love! Receive thy latest doom!
"Night be thy grave! and Oblivion be thy tomb!"

[Sidenote: _Nihil agendo male agere discimus._]