consolatione - Популярные cтихи, рассказы и фанфики

Though countless as the grains of
That roll at Eurus' loud command;
Though countless as the lamps of
That glad us with vicarious light;

The man who pants for ample sway,
Must bid his passions all obey;
Must bid each wild desire be still,
Nor yoke his reason with his will: