THE QUATRAINS OF
The good and evil with man's nature blent,
The weal and woe that heaven's decrees have sent,—
Impute them not to motions of the skies,—
Skies than thyself ten times more impotent.
Against death's arrows what are buckles worth?
What all the pomps and riches of the earth?
When I survey the world, I see no good
But goodness, all beside is nothing worth.
Weak souls, who from the world can not refrain,
Hold life-long fellowship with rule and pain;
Hearts free from worldly cares have store of bliss,
All others seeds of bitter woe contain.
97. N. Possibly written on the margin by some pious reader as an answer to No. 86.
98. L. N. Tajríd, see Gulshan i Ráz, p. 8, n.