Page:Works of Voltaire Volume 36.djvu/43

Ready at every motion of his will,
His call external objects answer still;
Sound to his ear is wafted by the air,
The light he sees without or pains or care.
As to his God, the end of humankind
Is man to ceaseless errors then confined?
Is nature then displayed to mortal's eyes,
While nature's God obscure and hidden lies?
Is succor in my greatest need denied?
Must my chief craving rest unsatisfied?
No, God in vain has not His creatures made,
The hand divine on every brow's displayed,
My Master's will can't from me be concealed;
When He gave being He His law revealed.
Doubtless He spoke, but spoke to all mankind;
To Egypt's deserts He was ne'er confined.
In Delphi, Delos, or the Sibyl's cave,
No oracle the godhead ever gave.
Morality, unvaried and the same,
Denounces to each age God's holy name.
'Tis Trajan's law, 'tis Socrates', yours,
By nature preached, like nature it endures;
Reason receives it, and the keen remorse
Of conscience strengthens it, and gives it force;
For conscience makes the obstinate repent,
And hardest bosoms at her voice relent.
Think you young Ammon, mad ambition's slave,
Not like you moderate, although as brave,
In a friend's blood, when he his hands imbrued,
By augurs to soft pity was subdued?
Religious rites for gold they had profaned,
And washed the monarch's hands by murder stained: