And with them go my hopes. 'T is lost, then! Lost
This eve, our crisis, and some pains it cost
Procuring; thirty years—as good I'd spent
Like our admonisher! But each his bent
Pursues: no question, one might live absurd
One's self this while, by deed as he by word
Persisting to obtrude an influence where
'T is made account of, much as ... nay, you fare
With twice the fortune, youngster!—I submit,
Happy to parallel my waste of wit