Page:The Sacred Books and Early Literature of the East, Volume 08.djvu/39



There is a mystery I know full well,

Which to all, good and bad, I can not tell;

My words are dark, but I can not unfold

The secrets of the station where I dwell.

No base or light-weight coins pass current here,

Of such a broom has swept our dwelling clear;

Forth from the tavern comes a sage and cries,

"Drink! for ye all must sleep through ages drear."

With outward seeming we can cheat mankind,

But to God's will we can but be resigned;

The deepest wiles my cunning e'er devised,

To balk resistless fate no way could find.

Is a friend faithless? spurn him as a foe;

Upon trustworthy foes respect bestow;

Hold healing poison for an antidote,

And baneful sweets for deadly eisel know.

No heart is there but bleeds when torn from Thee,

No sight so clear but craves Thy face to see;

And though perchance Thou carest not for them,

No soul is there but pines with care for Thee.

Sobriety doth dry up all delight,

And drunkenness doth drown my sense outright;

There is a middle state, it is my life---

Not altogether drunk, nor sober quite.