mind;

Are you not limbed, nerved, jointed, arteried, juiced,

As other men? yet, faithless to your kind,

Rather like noxious insects you are used

mud

Pat up a god, and burn, drown, hang,

or curse

Whoever worships not; each keeps his stud

Of texts which wait with saddle on and bridle

hunt hown atheists to their ugly idol.

XXIV.

"This, I perceive, has been your occupation;

You should have been more usefully employed;

All men are bound to earn their daily

ration,

Where States make not that primal con

tract void

By cramps and limits; simple devastation

Is the worm's task, and what he has destroyed

His monument; creating is man's work

And that, too, something more than mist and murk."

XXV.

So having said, the youth was seen no

more,

And straightway our sage Brahmin, the philosopher,

Cried, "That was aimed at thee, thou endless bore,

Idle and useless as the growth of moss

over

A rotting tree-trunk!" "I would Full soon," replied the Dervise, “could square that score

I cross over

And catch thee by the beard. Thy nails I'd trim

And make thee work, as was advised by him."

XXVI.

"Work? Am I not at work from morn till night

Sounding the deeps of oracles umbilical Which for man's guidance never come to light,

With all their various aptitudes, until

I call ?"

"And I, do I not twirl from left to right