On Equality of Conditions.
287
Irus, poor Irus, who, the combat o'er,
Drinks with the victors, thinks of war no more.
"Oh! Jove," exclaimed he, "Irus knows the worst;
Irus is happy, I alone am cursed."
Mistaken both, they should dispute lay by;
He errs, who sees a man with envious eye:
External lustre fills us with surprise;
But man's a mystery to human eyes.
All joy is transient, mirth must have an end;
Whither do then the cares of mortals tend?
In every clime grows happiness sincere,
'Tis nowhere to be found, or everywhere:
Nowhere entire, but everywhere the same;
In God alone exhaustless lasts the flame:
It's like the pure, like the ethereal fires
To mix with other elements aspires;
Mounts to the clouds, descends to rocks below,
And in the sea's abyss makes diamonds glow;
When snowy mountains load the frozen plains
Joy ever cheers the bosoms of the swains.
In whate'er state thou'rt born, O mortal, still
Resigned, submit to thy Creator's will!
Drinks with the victors, thinks of war no more.
"Oh! Jove," exclaimed he, "Irus knows the worst;
Irus is happy, I alone am cursed."
Mistaken both, they should dispute lay by;
He errs, who sees a man with envious eye:
External lustre fills us with surprise;
But man's a mystery to human eyes.
All joy is transient, mirth must have an end;
Whither do then the cares of mortals tend?
In every clime grows happiness sincere,
'Tis nowhere to be found, or everywhere:
Nowhere entire, but everywhere the same;
In God alone exhaustless lasts the flame:
It's like the pure, like the ethereal fires
To mix with other elements aspires;
Mounts to the clouds, descends to rocks below,
And in the sea's abyss makes diamonds glow;
When snowy mountains load the frozen plains
Joy ever cheers the bosoms of the swains.
In whate'er state thou'rt born, O mortal, still
Resigned, submit to thy Creator's will!
Vol. 1—19
