Thro' Earth, where living Goodness tho' 'tis blent

With Evil dures, may he not read the Voice,

'To make thee but for Death were toil ill spent'?"

[Pg 13]

"Well, when the Angel of the darker drink

At last shall find us by the river-brink

And offering his Cup invite our souls

Forth to our lips to quaff, we shall not shrink."

"No. But if in the sable Cup we knew

Death without waking were the wilful brew,

Nobler it were to curse as Coward Him

Who roused us into light—then light withdrew."

"Then Thou who didst with pitfall and with gin

Beset the Road I was to wander in,

Thou wilt not with Predestined Evil round

Enmesh, and then impute my fall to sin."

"He will not. If one evil we endure

To ultimate Debasing, oh, be sure

'Tis not of Him predestined, and the sin

Not His nor ours—but Fate's He could not cure."

 Prev. P 18/119 next