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(4) And now if we look round about us every where, upon Heaven and Earth, the Stars and Elements, yet we can see and know no Way [or Passage] where we may go to our Rest; we see no other than the Way of the Entrance in of our Life, and then of the End of our Life, where our Body goes into the Earth, and all our Labour (also our Arts and Glory) is inherited by another, who also vexes himself therewith for a While, and then follows after us; and that continues so from the Beginning of the World to its End.

(28) And when they heard, they came with one accord. Whereon I say: Ye earth-born folk, why have ye given yourselves up to Death, while yet ye have the power of sharing Deathlessness? Repent, O ye, who walk with Error arm in arm and make of Ignorance the sharer of your board; get ye out from the light of Darkness, and take your part in Deathlessness, forsake Destruction!

(4) Verily, while we are here we may know this. If you have known it not, great is the destruction. Those who know this become immortal, But others go only to sorrow.

(40) "Let there be lamentation, and let us lie down (again in peace)."

(2) Thus for themselves and us good furtherance Those shades imploring, went beneath a weight Like unto that of which we sometimes dream, Unequally in anguish round and round And weary all, upon that foremost cornice, Purging away the smoke-stains of the world. If there good words are always said for us, What may not here be said and done for them, By those who have a good root to their will? Well may we help them wash away the marks That hence they carried, so that clean and light They may ascend unto the starry wheels! "Ah! so may pity and justice you disburden Soon, that ye may have power to move the wing, That shall uplift you after your desire, Show us on which hand tow'rd the stairs the way Is shortest, and if more than one the passes, Point us out that which least abruptly falls; For he who cometh with me, through the burden Of Adam's flesh wherewith he is invested, Against his will is chary of his climbing." The words of theirs which they returned to those That he whom I was following had spoken, It was not manifest from whom they came,

(17) No mortal exists who has not toil; He buries children, and begets others, And he himself dies, And thus mortals are afflicted."

(23) Again he puts the same idea in these words: "No mortal is content and happy Nor is any born free from sorrow." And then again: " Alas, alas, how many are the chances of mortal calamity! How many forms it takes! None can tell the end." And further likewise: " Of what is mortal there is nothing which is happy without end."

(5) Each one shall find again his dismal tomb, Shall reassume his flesh and his own figure, Shall hear what through eternity re-echoes." So we passed onward o'er the filthy mixture Of shadows and of rain with footsteps slow, Touching a little on the future life. Wherefore I said: "Master, these torments here, Will they increase after the mighty sentence, Or lesser be, or will they be as burning?" And he to me: "Return unto thy science, Which wills, that as the thing more perfect is, The more it feels of pleasure and of pain. Albeit that this people maledict To true perfection never can attain, Hereafter more than now they look to be." Round in a circle by that road we went, Speaking much more, which I do not repeat; We came unto the point where the descent is; There we found Plutus the great enemy.

(1) He turned to his wife and said, "O dame, The harvest of December is not as that of July; Though they be dead or though they be living, Are they not equally visible to the eyes of the heart? I behold them clearly before me, Wherefore should I disfigure my countenance like you? Though they have gone forth by revolution of fortune, They are with me still, playing round me. The cause of lamentation is separation or parting, But I am still with my dear ones, and embrace them.

(20) What is the so great fault, said I, the ignorant commit, that they should be deprived of deathlessness? Thou seem'st, He said, O thou, not to have given heed to what thou heardest. Did I not bid thee think? Yea do I think, and I remember, and therefore give Thee thanks. If thou didst think [thereon], [said He], tell me: Why do they merit death who are in Death? It is because the gloomy Darkness is the root and base of the material frame; from it came the Moist Nature; from this the body in the sense-world was composed; and from this [body] Death doth the Water drain.

(7) I did not ask, 'What ails thee?' as he does Who only looketh with the eyes that see not When of the soul bereft the body lies, But asked it to give vigour to thy feet; Thus must we needs urge on the sluggards, slow To use their wakefulness when it returns." We passed along, athwart the twilight peering Forward as far as ever eye could stretch Against the sunbeams serotine and lucent; And lo! by slow degrees a smoke approached In our direction, sombre as the night, Nor was there place to hide one's self therefrom. This of our eyes and the pure air bereft us.

(2) Now, however, many previously conceiving in imagination, that all that is present with, and imparted to them by nature and fortune, is better than it is, and not thinking it to be such as it is in reality, but such as it is able to become when it has arrived at the summit of excellence, they burden the soul with many great, nefarious, and stupid evils, when they are suddenly deprived of [these evanescent goods]. And thus it happens to them that they lead a most bitter and miserable life. But this takes place in the loss of riches, or the death of friends or children, or in the privation of certain other things, which are conceived by them to be most honorable possessions.

Afterwards, weeping and lamenting, they assert of themselves, that they alone are most unfortunate and miserable, not remembering that these things have happened, and even now happen, to many others; nor are they able to understand the life of those that are now in existence, and of those that have lived in former times, nor to see in what great calamities and waves of evils, many of the present time are, and of the past have been involved. Considering with ourselves therefore, that many having lost their property, have afterwards on account of this very loss been saved, since hereafter they might either have fallen into the hands of robbers, or into the power of a tyrant; that many also who have loved certain persons, and have been benevolently disposed towards them in the extreme, have afterwards greatly hated them;—considering all these things, which have been delivered to us by history, and likewise learning that many have been destroyed by their children, and by those that they have most dearly loved; and comparing our own life with that of those who have been more unhappy than we have been, and taking into account human casualties [in general] and not only such as happen to ourselves, we shall pass through life with greater tranquillity.

For it is not lawful that he who is himself a man, should think the calamities of others easy to be borne, and not his own, since he sees that the whole of life is naturally exposed to many calamities. Those however, that weep and lament, besides not being able to recover what they have lost, or recal to life those that are dead, impel the soul to greater perturbations, in consequence of its being filled with much depravity. It is requisite therefore, that, being washed and purified, we should by all possible contrivances wipe away our inveterate stains by the reasonings of philosophy. But we shall accomplish this by adhering to prudence and temperance, being satisfied with our present circumstances, and not aspiring after many things.

For men who procure for themselves a great abundance [of external goods], do not consider that the enjoyment of them terminates with the present life. We ought therefore to use the goods that are present; and by the assistance of the beautiful and venerable things of which philosophy is the source, we shall be liberated from the insatiable desire of depraved possessions.

(387) ghosts under the earth, and sapless shades, and any similar words of which the very mention causes a shudder to pass through the inmost soul of him who hears them. I do not say that these horrible stories may not have a use of some kind; but there is a danger that the nerves of our guardians may be rendered too excitable and effeminate by them. There is a real danger, he said. Then we must have no more of them. True. Another and a nobler strain must be composed and sung by us. Clearly. And shall we proceed to get rid of the weepings and wailings of famous men? They will go with the rest. But shall we be right in getting rid of them? Reflect: our principle is that the good man will not consider death terrible to any other good man who is his comrade. Yes; that is our principle. And therefore he will not sorrow for his departed friend as though he had suffered anything terrible? He will not. Such an one, as we further maintain, is sufficient for himself and his own happiness, and therefore is least in need of other men. True, he said. And for this reason the loss of a son or brother, or the deprivation of fortune, is to him of all men least terrible. Assuredly. And therefore he will be least likely to lament, and will bear with the greatest equanimity any misfortune of this sort which may befall him. Yes, he will feel such a misfortune far less than another. Then we shall be right in getting rid of the lamentations of famous men, and making them over to women (and not

(5) For the Pythagorean Theano writes, "Life were indeed a feast to the wicked, who, having done evil, then die; were not the soul immortal, death would be a godsend." And Plato in the Phaedo, "For if death were release from everything," and so forth. We are not then to think according to the Telephus of Aeschylus, "that a single path leads to Hades." The ways are many, and the sins that lead thither. Such deeply erring ones as the unfaithful are, Aristophanes properly makes the subjects of comedy. "Come," he says, "ye men of obscure life, ye that are like the race of leaves, feeble, wax figures, shadowy tribes, evanescent, fleeting, ephemeral." And Epicharmus, "This nature of men is inflated skins."

(200) Let us live happily then, though we call nothing our own! We shall be like the bright gods, feeding on happiness!

(1) The dead regret not dying, but having lost opportunities in life. Well said that Leader of mankind, That whosoever passes away from the world Does not grieve and lament over his death, He says, "Why did I not keep death always in view, Which is the treasury of wealth and sustenance? Why did I blindly all my life set my affections On vain shadows which perish at death? My regret is not that I have died, I saw not that my body was a mere shadow or foam, When the Ocean casts its foam-drops to land,

(3) Therefore the vision must perforce increase, Increase the ardour which from that is kindled, Increase the radiance which from this proceeds. But even as a coal that sends forth flame, And by its vivid whiteness overpowers it So that its own appearance it maintains, Thus the effulgence that surrounds us now Shall be o'erpowered in aspect by the flesh, Which still to-day the earth doth cover up; Nor can so great a splendour weary us, For strong will be the organs of the body To everything which hath the power to please us." So sudden and alert appeared to me Both one and the other choir to say Amen, That well they showed desire for their dead bodies; Nor sole for them perhaps, but for the mothers, The fathers, and the rest who had been dear Or ever they became eternal flames. And lo! all round about of equal brightness Arose a lustre over what was there, Like an horizon that is clearing up. And as at rise of early eve begin Along the welkin new appearances, So that the sight seems real and unreal,

(131) We bore friendship to the plains of earth; We were wont to sow the seed of service on the earth, What was this attachment to that house of earth When our own natures are heavenly? What was the friendship of lights like us to darkness? How can light dwell together with darkness? O Adam! that friendship arose from the scent of thee, Thy earthly body was taken from there, Thy pure spirit of light was shed down from here! But our souls were enlightened by thy spirit

(6) Beneath the water people are who sigh And make this water bubble at the surface, As the eye tells thee wheresoe'er it turns. Fixed in the mire they say, 'We sullen were In the sweet air, which by the sun is gladdened, Bearing within ourselves the sluggish reek; Now we are sullen in this sable mire.' This hymn do they keep gurgling in their throats, For with unbroken words they cannot say it." Thus we went circling round the filthy fen A great arc 'twixt the dry bank and the swamp, With eyes turned unto those who gorge the mire; Unto the foot of a tower we came at last.