CANTO THE SIXTH.[328] I. "There is a tide in the affairs of men, Which,--taken at the flood,"--you know the rest,[329] And most of us have found it now and then: At least we think so, though but few have guessed The moment, till too late to come again. But no doubt everything is for the best-- Of which the surest sign is in the end: When things are at the worst they sometimes mend. II. There is a tide in the affairs of women, Which, taken at the flood, leads--God knows where: Those navigators must be able seamen Whose charts lay down its currents to a hair; Not all the reveries of Jacob Behmen[330] With its strange whirls and eddies can compare: Men with their heads reflect on this and that-- But women with their hearts on Heaven knows what![gb] III. And yet a headlong, headstrong, downright She, Young, beautiful, and daring--who would risk A throne--the world--the universe--to be Beloved in her own way--and rather whisk The stars from out the sky, than not be free[gc] As are the billows when the breeze is brisk-- Though such a She's a devil (if there be one), Yet she would make full many a Manichean. IV. Thrones, worlds, _et cetera_, are so oft upset By commonest ambition, that when Passion O'erthrows the same, we readily forget, Or at the least forgive, the loving rash one. If Anthony be well remembered yet, 'T is not his conquests keep his name in fashion, But Actium, lost for Cleopatra's eyes, Outbalances all Cæsar's victories.[gd] V. He died at fifty for a queen of forty; I wish their years had been fifteen and twenty,[ge] For then wealth, kingdoms, worlds are but a sport--I Remember when, though I had no great plenty Of worlds to lose, yet still, to pay my court, I Gave what I had--a heart;[331] as the world went, I Gave what was worth a world; for worlds could never Restore me those pure feelings, gone for ever. VI. 'T was the boy's "mite," and, like the "widow's," may Perhaps be weighed hereafter, if not now; But whether such things do or do not weigh, All who have loved, or love, will still allow Life has nought like it. God is Love, they say, And Love's a god, or was before the brow Of Earth was wrinkled by the sins and tears Of--but Chronology best knows the years. VII.