Three hymns to Fortune:

Let the storm burst, my fixed resolve still holds,
To learn my lineage, be it ne'er so low.
It may be she with all a woman's pride
Thinks scorn of my base parentage. But I
Who rank myself as Fortune's favorite child,
The giver of good gifts, shall not be shamed.
She is my mother and the changing moons
My brethren, and with them I wax and wane.
Thus sprung why should I fear to trace my birth?
Nothing can make me other than I am.

- Sophocles, Oedipus Rex

O Fortune,
like the moon
you are changeable,
ever waxing
and waning;
hateful life
first oppresses
and then soothes
as fancy takes it;
poverty
and power
it melts them like ice.

- Anonymous, Carmina Burana

They call you Lady Luck.
But there is room for doubt
At times you have a very unladylike way of running out
You're this a date with me
The pickings have been lush
And yet before this evening is over you might give me the brush
You might forget your manners
You might refure to stay and So the best that I can to is pray.

- Frank Loesser, Guys and Dolls