Reflections - Ii.

Alas, to our discomfort and his own, Oft are the greatest talents to be found In a fool's keeping. For what else is he, What else is he, however worldly wise, Who can pervert and to the worst abuse The noblest means to serve the noblest ends; Who can employ the gift of eloquence, That sacred gift, to dazzle and delude; Or, if achievement in the field be his, Climb but to gain a loss, suffering how much, And how much more inflicting! Every where, Cost what they will, such cruel freaks are played; And hence the turmoil in this world of ours, The turmoil never ending, still beginning, The wailing and the tears.--When Caesar came, He who could master all men but himself, Who did so much and could so well record it; Even he, the most applauded in his part, Who, when he spoke, all things summed up in him, Spoke to convince, nor ever, when he fought, Fought but to conquer--what a life was his, Slaying so many, to be slain at last, A life of trouble and incessant toil, And all to gain what is far better missed!