If such doom waits each intellectual Giant,
We little people in our lesser way,
In Life’s small rubs should surely be more pliant,
And so for one will I—as well I may—
Would that I were less bilious—but, oh, fie on ’t!
Just as I make my mind up every day,
To be a “totus, teres,” Stoic, Sage,
The wind shifts and I fly into a rage.