THE QUATRAINS OF
From life we draw now wine, now dregs to drink,
Now flaunt in silk, and now in tatters shrink;
Such changes wisdom holds of slight account
To those who stand on death's appalling brink!
What sage the eternal tangle e'er unravelled,
Or one short step beyond his nature travelled?
From pupils to the masters turn your eyes,
And see, each mother's son alike is gravelled.
Crave not of worldly sweets to take your fill,
Nor wait on turns of fortune, good or ill;
Be of light heart, as are the skies above,
They roll a round or two, and then lie still.
190. C. L. N. A. B. I. In line 1, note rá put after the genitive following its noun. 'Ijz.... "impotence is in the hand of each" "Beyond his nature," i.e. beyond the limits of his own thought.