Love's Bravo

Why should we murmur, why repine,
Phyllis, at thy fate, or mine?
Like pris'ners, why do we those fetters shake;
Which neither thou, nor I can break?
There is a better way to baffle Fate,
If mortals would but mind it,
And 'tis not hard to find it:
Who would be happy, must be desperate;
He must despise those stars that fright
Only fools that dread the night;
Time and chance he must outbrave,
He that crouches is their slave.
Thus the wise Pagans, ill at ease,
Bravely chastis'd their surly Deities.