Scarcely we paused to glance aside,
As we mocked the dullards, who watched at leisure
The frantic race that we chose to ride.
Yes, youth is the time when a master-passion,
Or love or ambition, our nature fills;
And each of us rode in a different fashion—
All of us rode at the pace that kills!
And vainly, O friends, ye strive to bind us;
Flippantly, gaily, we answer you:—
“Should atra cura[25] jump up behind us,