Part 19 (1/2)

O thou who art driven like a ball by the mallet of Fate, Go to the right or take the left, but say nothing;[74]

For He who set thee running and galloping He knows, he knows, he knows, he----.

_Ref._: C. 422, L. 633, B. 625, P. 167, B. ii. 462, T. 274.--W. 401, V.

682.

LXXI.

The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it.

The origin of this quatrain is to be found in O. 31

From the beginning[75] was written what shall be; Unhaltingly the Pen (writes) and is heedless of good and bad; On the First Day He appointed everything that must be-- Our grief and our efforts are vain.

_Ref._: O. 31, C. 87, L. 195, B. 192, S.P. 31, B. ii. 60, T. 67, P. v.

211.--W. 35, N. 31, V. 191.

LXXII.

And that inverted Bowl they call the Sky, Whereunder crawling coop'd we live and die, Lift not your hands to _It_ for help--for It As Impotently moves as you or I.

The inspiration for this quatrain comes from O. 134, ll. 1 and 2, and O.

41.

This heavenly vault is like a bowl fallen upside down, Under which all the wise have fallen helpless.

_Ref._: O. 134, C. 435, L. 657, B. 649, S.P. 360, P. 34, B. ii. 481, P.

v. 154.--W. 408, N. 363, V. 706.

The good and the bad that are in man's nature, The happiness and misery that are predestined for us, Do not impute them to the heavens, for, in the way of Wisdom, Those heavens are a thousandfold more helpless than thou art.

_Ref._: O. 41, C. 62, L. 80, B. 76, S.P. 95, P. 45.--W. 96, N. 95, V.

79.

LXXIII.

With Earth's first Clay They did the Last Man knead, And there of the Last Harvest sow'd the Seed: And the first Morning of Creation wrote What the Last Dawn of Reckoning shall read.

In this quatrain we trace the influence of O. 31 (quoted in the parallel to quatrain No. 71, _ante_) and of O. 95.

Oh, heart! since, in this world, truth itself is hyperbole, Why art thou so disquieted with this trouble and abas.e.m.e.nt?

Resign thy body to destiny and adapt thyself to the times, For, what the Pen has written, it will not re-write for thy sake.[76]

_Ref._: O. 95, L. 430, B. 426, S.P. 215, P. 59, B. ii. 292.--W. 257, N.

216, E.C. 15, V. 468.