And all our empty splendour put to scorn;
Fate leaves us, who were clothed in pride, forlorn,
To perish, naked, in this lonely sea.
But yesterday we ruled as kings of earth;
Frail men to-day; to-morrow, who shall be?
ARLO: But yesterday my cup of life was filled
To overflowing with the wine of mirth--
The plashing joy from fruitful years distilled.
GARLAND: But yesterday my kinghood sprang to birth;
My fingers scarce had grasped the might new-born,