Now it rushes madly down some mountain, and catches its breath, and stretches out its hand in vain to stop itself.

There weeps the mother of Jesus.

Let them weep.

What avail her tears now?
nay, the tears of all the mothers in the world?
"What are tears ?" asks Judas, and madly pushes unyielding Time, beats it with his fists, curses it like a slave.

It belongs to some one else, and therefore is unamenable to discipline.