Why strive with Fate? no jot will he abate;
Even the brawny knees of Hercules
Must bend or break before him soon or late.
They drain a bitter cup with poisonous lees,
A life ignoble and a death of shame,
And in some potter’s field they find surcease;
Or, dying nobly, leave behind no name,
While, mounting on their bones, some brazen cheat
Reaches the very pinnacle of Fame.
Destiny mocks them from her lofty seat,