“O heaven! that one might read the book of fate,
And see the revolution of the times,
... how chances mock,
And changes fill the cup of alteration
With divers liquors! O, if this were seen,
The happiest youth,—viewing his progress through,
What perils past, what crosses to ensue,—
Would shut the book, and sit him down and die.”
Finally, Byron:—
“Count o'er the joys thine hours have seen,