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THE PAGEANT OF THE HOURS

IFor ever do the Hours unfold The tale in Fate's great book enrolled, The tale for ever to be told, For ever new, yet ever old: They march for ever on their way Nor prayer nor threat their course can stay; Impassive ministers of Fate, Unmoved alike by Love or Hate: Yet are they friends, not foes, to man, Could he their course with calmness scan.
II They bring us Life—ill-omened gift! And set us in the world adrift To struggle with it as we may, To triumph or become its prey: Indifferent on their path they go, Regardless of our joy or woe, Unenvious of our happiness, And pitiless to our distress; They furnish forth for us the stage, But care not how we rant or rage.
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