For ever do the Hours unfold
The tale in Fate's great book enrolled,
The tale for ever to be told,
For ever new, yet ever old:
They march for ever on their way
Nor prayer nor threat their course can stay;
Impassive ministers of Fate,
Unmoved alike by Love or Hate:
⁠Yet are they friends, not foes, to man.
⁠Could he their course with calmness scan.

They bring us Life—ill-omened gift!
And set us in the world adrift
To struggle with it as we may,
To triumph or become its prey:
Indifferent on their path they go,
Regardless of our joy or woe,
Unenvious of our happiness,
And pitiless to our distress;
⁠They furnish forth for us the stage.
⁠But care not how we rant or rage.