There is a mystery I know full well,
Which to all, good and bad, I can not tell;
My words are dark, but I can not unfold
The secrets of the station where I dwell.
No base or light-weight coins pass current here,
Of such a broom has swept our dwelling clear;
Forth from the tavern comes a sage and cries,
"Drink! for ye all must sleep through ages drear."
With outward seeming we can cheat mankind,
But to God's will we can but be resigned;
The deepest wiles my cunning e'er devised,
To balk resistless fate no way could find.
36. Bl. C. L. N. A. I. J. Hálé, a state of ecstacy.
37. Bl. L. N. Meaning, Mollas' fables will not go down with us.
38. L. N. Meaning, wekeness of human rule compared to the strength of Divine decrees.