Their offspring flourish round them, their abodes 

 Are safe from fear. Their cattle multiply 

 And widely o'er the hills and pastures green 

 Wander their healthful herds. Forth like a flock 

 They send their little ones, with dance and song, 

 Tabret and harp. They spend their days in wealth 

 And sink to slumber in the quiet grave. 

 Yet unto God they said, Depart from us, 

 For we desire no knowledge of thy ways. 

 Why should we serve the Almighty? Who is he? 

 And what our profit if we pray to Him? 

 Close by these impious ones lies down to sleep, 

 One in the strength and glory of his prime, 

 Whom sorrow never touch'd, nor age impair'd; 

 And still another, wan misfortune's child, 

 Nurtur'd in bitterness, who never took 

 His meat with pleasure. Side by side they rest 

 On Death's oblivious pillow. Do ye say 

 Their varied lot below, mark'd their deserts? 

 In retribution just? 

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