Say not the will of man is free
Within the limits of his soul—
Who from his heritage can flee?
Who can his destiny control?

In vain we wage perpetual strife,
'Gainst instincts dumb and blind desires—
Who leads must serve.. The pulse of life
Throbs with the dictates of our sires.

Since when the world began to be,
And life through hidden purpose came,
From sire to son unceasingly
The task bequeathed hath been the same.

We strive, while fetters bind us fast,
We seek to do what needs must be—
We move through bondage with the past
In service to posterity.