Dull Sir Joskin sleeps his fill, Good Sir Galahad seeks the Grail, Proud Sir Pertinax flaunts his frill, Hard Sir Æger dints his mail; And the while by hill and dale Tristram’s braveries gleam and glance, And his blithe horn tells its tale:— ‘Fate’s a fiddler, Life’s a dance.’ Araminta’s grand and shrill, Delia’s passionate and frail, Doris drives an earnest quill, Athanasia takes the veil: Wiser Phyllis o’er her pail, At the heart of all romance Reading, sings to Strephon’s flail:— ‘Fate’s a fiddler, Life’s a dance.’ Every Jack must have his Jill (Even Johnson had his Thrale!): Forward, couples—with a will! This, the world, is not a jail. Hear the music, sprat and whale! Hands across, retire, advance! Though the doomsman’s on your trail, Fate’s a fiddler, Life’s a dance. _Envoy_ Boys and girls, at slug and snail And their kindred look askance. Pay your footing on the nail: Fate’s a fiddler, Life’s a dance. DOUBLE BALLADE OF THE NOTHINGNESS OF THINGS THE big teetotum twirls, And epochs wax and wane As chance subsides or swirls; But of the loss and gain The sum is always plain. Read on the mighty pall, The weed of funeral That covers praise and blame, The —isms and the —anities, Magnificence and shame:— ‘O Vanity of Vanities!’ The Fates are subtile girls! They give us chaff for grain. And Time, the Thunderer, hurls, Like bolted death, disdain At all that heart and brain Conceive, or great or small, Upon this earthly ball. Would you be knight and dame? Or woo the sweet humanities? Or illustrate a name? O Vanity of Vanities! We sound the sea for pearls, Or drown them in a drain; We flute it with the merles, Or tug and sweat and strain; We grovel, or we reign; We saunter, or we brawl; We answer, or we call; We search the stars for Fame, Or sink her subterranities; The legend’s still the same:— ‘O Vanity of Vanities!’ Here at the wine one birls, There some one clanks a chain. The flag that this man furls That man to float is fain. Pleasure gives place to pain: These in the kennel crawl, While others take the wall. _She_ has a glorious aim, _He_ lives for the inanities. What comes of every claim? O Vanity of Vanities! Alike are clods and earls. For sot, and seer, and swain, For emperors and for churls, For antidote and bane, There is but one refrain: But one for king and thrall, For David and for Saul, For fleet of foot and lame, For pieties and profanities, The picture and the frame:— ‘O Vanity of Vanities!’