To-day is but a breathing space, quaff wine! Thou wilt not see again this life of thine; So, as the world becomes the spoil of time, Offer thyself to be the spoil of wine! 20. L. N. 21. 'Tis we who to wine's yoke our necks incline, And risk our lives to gain the smiles of wine; The henchman grasps the flagon by its throat And squeezes out the lifeblood of the vine. 21. L. N. Line 3 is in metre 19. 22. Here in this tavern haunt I make my lair, Pawning for wine, heart, soul, and all I wear, Without a hope of bliss, or fear of bale, Rapt above water, earth, and fire, and air. 22. Bl. C. L. N. A. B. I. J. 23. Quoth fish to duck, «Twill be a sad affair, If this brook leaves its channel dry and bare»; To whom the duck, «When I am dead and roasted The brook may run with wine for aught I care.» 23. L. Meaning, «_Après nous le déluge_». 24. From doubt to clear assurance is a breath, A breath from infidelity to faith; O precious breath! enjoy it while you may, 'Tis all that life can give, and then comes death. 24. Bl. C. L. N. A. I. J. 25. Ah! wheel of heaven to tyranny inclined, 'Twas e'er your wont to show yourself unkind; And, cruel earth, if they should cleave your breast, What store of buried jewels they would find! 25. Bl. C. L. N. A. I. J. «Wheel of heaven,» _i.e._, destiny, fortune. Sir Thomas Browne talks of the «wheel of things.» 26. My life lasts but a day or two, and fast Sweeps by, like torrent stream or desert blast, Howbeit, of two days I take no heed,-- The day to come, and that already past. 26. Bl. C. L. N. A. B. I. J. 27. That pearl is from a mine unknown to thee, That ruby bears a stamp thou canst not see The tale of love some other tongue must tell, All our conjectures are mere phantasy. 27. Meaning, real love of God differs from the popular idea of it. Bl. 28. Now with its joyful prime my age is rife, I quaff enchanting wine, and list to fife; Chide not at wine for all its bitter taste, Its bitterness sorts well with human life! 28. Bl. C. L. N. A. B. I. J. 29. O soul! whose lot it is to bleed with pain, And daily change of fortune to sustain, Into this body wherefore didst thou come, Seeing thou must at last go forth again? 29. Bl. C. L. N. A. I. J. 30. To-day is thine to spend, but not to-morrow, Counting on morrows breedeth naught but sorrow; Oh! squander not this breath that heaven hath lent thee, Nor make too sure another breath to borrow! 30. Bl. C. N. A. B. I. 31. 'Tis labour lost thus to all doors to crawl, Take thy good fortune, and thy bad withal; Know for a surety each must play his game, As from heaven's dice-box fate's dice chance to fall. 31. Bl. C. L. N. A. I. J. _Naksh_, the dots on dice. 32.