Pallas, whose chill breast bears a shield above, Pretends her mirth will be our pleasure's gage: Pallas! leave me my years of youth for love And I will shrine your worship in my age. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LITANY: 10. THE MARTYRS by JOHN DONNE CASABIANCA by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS THE WRECK OF THE DEUTSCHLAND by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS THE FRAILTY AND HURTFULNESS OF BEAUTY by HENRY HOWARD MARIE MIGNOT by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM THE PRAYSE OF LADY PECUNIA by RICHARD BARNFIELD |