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CII.

Enjoy your time, my soul! another race
Will shortly fill the world, and take your place,
With their own hopes and fears, sorrow and mirth:
I shall be dust the while, and crumbled earth.
But think not of it! Drink the racy wine

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Of rich Taygetus, pressed from the vine
Which Theotimus in the sunny glen,
(Old Theotimus, lov'd by Gods and men)
Planted, and water'd from a plenteous source,
Teaching the wayward stream a better course—
Drink it, and cheer your heart, and banish care—
A load of wine will lighten our despair.