Well, well; short time will show; into my net

I’ll draw the fish, and then I’ve won my bet;

And when I’ve carried through my measure

Loud blast of trump shall blaze my glory;

Dust shall he eat, and that with pleasure,

Like my cousin the snake in the rare old story.

The Lord.

The Lord.

And thou mayst show thee here in upper sky

Unhindered, when thou hast a mind;

I never hated much thee or thy kind;

Of all the spirits that deny,

The clever rogue sins least against my mind.

For, in good sooth, the mortal generation,

When a soft pillow they may haply find,

Are far too apt to sink into stagnation;

And therefore man for comrade wisely gets

A devil, who spurs, and stimulates, and whets.

But you, ye sons of heaven’s own choice,

In the one living Beautiful rejoice!

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