And those whom once my song had cheered and gladdened, If still they live, rove through the world now saddened.

Rash combat oft immortalizes man; if he should fall, he is renowned in song; but after-ages reckon not the ceaseless tears which the forsaken woman sheds. Poets tell us not of the many nights consumed in weeping, or of the dreary days wherein her anguished soul vainly yearns to call her loved one back.

One ought, everyday, to hear a song, read a fine poem, and, if possible, to speak a few reasonable words.

You shall abstain, shall abstain. That is the eternal song.