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Detdiar sidj as efterluket wurden.

    And jet for such living
       The love is so groat !
     In folly's lap idling,
       How pleased the fools sit

     But why art thou chiding
       The comical play ?
     The end art thou asking ?
       The end is the way.

     Thy hoping and caring,
       Suppose it not paid;
     In hoping and caring
       A joy thou hast had.

     Uncrowned with laurels
       The hero may bleed ;
     He joys in his courage,
       And there finds his meed.

     The riddles so many ?
       The answers so few ?
     Why ask the red wine-cup
       On what vine it grew ?

     Forgetting is pleasure,
       And thinking is pain ;
     Then take for the real
       What seems the most plain.

     So life lot us cherish,
       Enjoy what we have ;
     Before our frame perish,
       Forgot in the grave.


     O childish resolving !
       folly most stark !
     So billows are tossing
       The rudderless bark.