to the teeth and forehead of our faults, To give in evidence.  What then? what rests?  Try what repentance can:  what can it not?  Yet what can it when one cannot repent?  O wretched state!  O bosom black as death!  O limed soul, that, struggling to be free, Art more engaged!  Help, angels!  Make assay!  Bow, stubborn knees; and heart with strings of steel, Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe!  All may be well. [Retires and kneels.]

* * * * *

  King (rising). My words fly up, my thoughts remain below;
  Words without thoughts never to heaven go.

SHAKESPEARE.

* * * * *

THE CALIPH AND SATAN.

    VERSIFIED FROM THOLUCK’S TRANSLATION OUT OF THE PERSIAN.

  In heavy sleep the Caliph lay,
  When some one called, “Arise, and pray!”

  The angry Caliph cried, “Who dare
  Rebuke his king for slighting prayer?”

  Then, from the corner of the room,
  A voice cut sharply through the gloom: 

  “My name is Satan, Rise! obey
  Mohammed’s law; awake, and pray!”

  “Thy words are good,” the Caliph said,
  “But their intent I somewhat dread.

  For matters cannot well be worse
  Than when the thief says, ‘Guard your purse!’

  I cannot trust your counsel, friend,
  It surely hides some wicked end.”

  Said Satan, “Near the throne of God,
  In ages past, we devils trod;

  Angels of light, to us ’t was given
  To guide each wandering foot to heaven.

  Not wholly lost is that first love. 
  Nor those pure tastes we knew above.

  Roaming across a continent. 
  The Tartar moves his shifting tent,

  But never quite forgets the day
  When in his father’s arms he lay;

  So we, once bathed in love divine. 
  Recall the taste of that rich wine.

  God’s finger rested on my brow,—­
  That magic touch, I feel it now!

  I fell, ’t is true—­O, ask not why. 
  For still to God I turn my eye.

  It was a chance by which I fell,
  Another takes me back from hell.

  ’T was but my envy of mankind,
  The envy of a loving mind.

  Jealous of men, I could not bear
  God’s love with this new race to share.

  But yet God’s tables open stand,
  His guests flock in from every land;

  Some kind act towards the race of men
  May toss us into heaven again.

  A game of chess is all we see,—­
  And God the player, pieces we.

  White, black—­queen, pawn,—­’t is all the same,
  For on both sides he plays the game.

  Moved to and fro, from good to ill,
  We rise and fall as suits his will.”

  The Caliph said, “If this be so,
  I know not, but thy guile I know;

  For how can I thy words believe,
  When even God thou didst deceive?