Michael Eyquen de Montaigne

Whose wit in the combat as gentle as bright
Ne'er carried a heartstain away on its blade.

Whose wit in the combat as gentle as bright
Ne'er carried a heartstain away on its blade.

Oh, sweet youth, how soon it fades!
Sweet joys of youth, how fleeting!

Oh, sweet youth, how soon it fades!
Sweet joys of youth, how fleeting!

To each foot its own shoe.
[Fr., A chaque pied son soulier.]

To each foot its own shoe.
[Fr., A chaque pied son soulier.]

Then fill the bowl--way with gloom!
Our joys shall always last;
For Hope shall brighten days to read more

Then fill the bowl--way with gloom!
Our joys shall always last;
For Hope shall brighten days to come,
And Mem'ry gild the past.

Bliss itself is not worth having,
If we're by compulsion blest.

Bliss itself is not worth having,
If we're by compulsion blest.