When the wine makes its round,
** Since life fleets, all is change ; the Past gone, seize
to-day!"

XXVII.
Fool ! All that is, at all.
Lasts ever, past recall ;
Earth changes, but thy soul and God stand sure :

What entered into thee, 160

7''hat was, is, and shall be :
Time's wheel runs back or stopa ; ?olx<tt vcA^ai?) ^s^^isas^



1 82 DRAMATIS PERSONiB.
XXVIII.
He fixed thee mid this dance

Of plastic circumstance.
This Present, thou, forsooth, wouldst fain arrest :

Machinery just meant

To give thy soul its bent.
Try thee and turn thee forth, sufficiently impressed.
xxix.
What though the earlier grooves

Which ran the laughing loves 170

Around thy base, no longer pause and press ?

What though, about thy rim.
Skull-things in order grim
Grow out, in graver mood, obey the sterner stress ?

XXX.
Look not thou down but up !

To uses of a cup.
The festal board, lamp's flash and trumpet's peal.
The new wine's foaming flow.
The Master's lips a-glow !
Thou, heaven's consummate cup, what need'st thou
with earth's wheel ? 1 80

XXXI.
But I need, now as then.
Thee, God, who mouldest men ;
And since, not even while the whirl was worst.
Did I, — to the wheel of life
With shapes and colors rife.
Bound dizzily, — mistake my ei\d, \.o ^^t TVc^ thirst :



A DEATH IN THE DESERT. 1 83

xxxu.
So, take and use Thy work :

Amend what flaws may lurk.
What strain o' the stuff*, what warpings past the aim !

My times be in Thy hand ! 190

Perfect the cup as planned !
Let age approve of youth, and death complete the same ]



A DEATH IN THE DESERT.
