(5) My dear Mind, thou supposest thou art very sound, but thou art so beaten, that thou feelest thy Disease no more. Art thou not very near unto Death, how then canst thou account thyself to be sound? O my dear Soul, boast not of thy Soundness, thou liest fettered in heavy Bonds, yea in a very dark Dungeon; thou swimmest in a deep Water, which rises up to thy very Lips, and thou must continually expect Death. Besides, the Hunter is behind thee with a great Company of thy worst Enemies, whereby he draws thee continually down by his Chains into the horrible Deep, into the Abyss of Hell, and his Crew thrust thee on behind thee, and run upon thee on all Sides, yelling and hunting, as if they had the Hind they hunt after.

(1) That hue which cowardice brought out on me, Beholding my Conductor backward turn, Sooner repressed within him his new colour. He stopped attentive, like a man who listens, Because the eye could not conduct him far Through the black air, and through the heavy fog. "Still it behoveth us to win the fight," Began he; "Else. . .Such offered us herself. . . O how I long that some one here arrive!" Well I perceived, as soon as the beginning He covered up with what came afterward, That they were words quite different from the first; But none the less his saying gave me fear, Because I carried out the broken phrase, Perhaps to a worse meaning than he had. "Into this bottom of the doleful conch Doth any e'er descend from the first grade, Which for its pain has only hope cut off?" This question put I; and he answered me: "Seldom it comes to pass that one of us Maketh the journey upon which I go. True is it, once before I here below Was conjured by that pitiless Erictho, Who summoned back the shades unto their bodies.

(374) bestowed any attention upon them. How then will he who takes up a shield or other implement of war become a good fighter all in a day, whether with heavy-armed or any other kind of troops? Yes, he said, the tools which would teach men their own use would be beyond price. And the higher the duties of the guardian, I said, the more time, and skill, and art, and application will be needed by him? No doubt, he replied. Will he not also require natural aptitude for his calling? Certainly. Then it will be our duty to select, if we can, natures which are fitted for the task of guarding the city? It will. And the selection will be no easy matter, I said; but we must be brave and do our best. We must. Is not the noble youth very like a well-bred dog in respect of guarding and watching? What do you mean? I mean that both of them ought to be quick to see, and swift to overtake the enemy when they see him; and strong too if, when they have caught him, they have to fight with him. All these qualities, he replied, will certainly be required by them. Well, and your guardian must be brave if he is to fight well? Certainly. And is he likely to be brave who has no spirit, whether horse or dog or any other animal? Have you never observed

(429) about the nature of things to be feared and not to be feared in which our legislator educated them; and this is what you term courage. I should like to hear what you are saying once more, for I do not think that I perfectly understand you. I mean that courage is a kind of salvation. Salvation of what? Of the opinion respecting things to be feared, what they are and of what nature, which the law implants through education; and I mean by the words ‘under all circumstances’ to intimate that in pleasure or in pain, or under the influence of desire or fear, a man preserves, and does not lose this opinion. Shall I give you an illustration? If you please. You know, I said, that dyers, when they want to dye wool for making the true sea-purple, begin by selecting their white colour first; this they prepare and dress with much care and pains, in order that the white ground may take the purple hue in full perfection. The dyeing then proceeds; and whatever is dyed in this manner becomes a fast colour, and no washing either with lyes or without them can take away the bloom. But, when the ground has not been duly prepared, you will have noticed how poor is the look either of purple or of any other colour. Yes, he said; I know that they have a washed-out and ridiculous appearance. Then now, I said, you will understand what our object was

(413) And is not this involuntary deprivation caused either by theft, or force, or enchantment? Still, he replied, I do not understand you. I fear that I must have been talking darkly, like the tragedians. I only mean that some men are changed by persuasion and that others forget; argument steals away the hearts of one class, and time of the other; and this I call theft. Now you understand me? Yes. Those again who are forced, are those whom the violence of some pain or grief compels to change their opinion. I understand, he said, and you are quite right. And you would also acknowledge that the enchanted are those who change their minds either under the softer influence of pleasure, or the sterner influence of fear? Yes, he said; everything that deceives may be said to enchant. Therefore, as I was just now saying, we must enquire who are the best guardians of their own conviction that what they think the interest of the State is to be the rule of their lives. We must watch them from their youth upwards, and make them perform actions in which they are most likely to forget or to be deceived, and he who remembers and is not deceived is to be selected, and he who fails in the trial is to be rejected. That will be the way? Yes. And there should also be toils and pains and conflicts prescribed for them, in which they will be made to give further proof of the same qualities. Very right, he replied. And then, I said, we must try them with enchantments—that is the third sort of test—and see what will be their behaviour: like those who take colts amid noise and tumult to see if they are of a timid nature, so must we take our youth amid terrors of some kind, and again pass them into pleasures,

(560) advising or rebuking him, then there arises in his soul a faction and an opposite faction, and he goes to war with himself. It must be so. And there are times when the democratical principle gives way to the oligarchical, and some of his desires die, and others are banished; a spirit of reverence enters into the young man’s soul and order is restored. Yes, he said, that sometimes happens. And then, again, after the old desires have been driven out, fresh ones spring up, which are akin to them, and because he their father does not know how to educate them, wax fierce and numerous. Yes, he said, that is apt to be the way. They draw him to his old associates, and holding secret intercourse with them, breed and multiply in him. Very true. At length they seize upon the citadel of the young man’s soul, which they perceive to be void of all accomplishments and fair pursuits and true words, which make their abode in the minds of men who are dear to the gods, and are their best guardians and sentinels. None better. False and boastful conceits and phrases mount upwards and take their place. They are certain to do so. And so the young man returns into the country of the lotus-eaters, and takes up his dwelling there in the face of all men; and if any help be sent by his friends to the oligarchical part of him, the aforesaid vain conceits shut the gate of the king’s fastness; and they will neither allow the embassy itself to enter, nor if private advisers offer the fatherly counsel of the aged will they listen to them or receive them.

(430) in selecting our soldiers, and educating them in music and gymnastic; we were contriving influences which would prepare them to take the dye of the laws in perfection, and the colour of their opinion about dangers and of every other opinion was to be indelibly fixed by their nurture and training, not to be washed away by such potent lyes as pleasure—mightier agent far in washing the soul than any soda or lye; or by sorrow, fear, and desire, the mightiest of all other solvents. And this sort of universal saving power of true opinion in conformity with law about real and false dangers I call and maintain to be courage, unless you disagree. But I agree, he replied; for I suppose that you mean to exclude mere uninstructed courage, such as that of a wild beast or of a slave—this, in your opinion, is not the courage which the law ordains, and ought to have another name. Most certainly. Then I may infer courage to be such as you describe? Why, yes, said I, you may, and if you add the words ‘of a citizen,’ you will not be far wrong;—hereafter, if you like, we will carry the examination further, but at present we are seeking not for courage but justice; and for the purpose of our enquiry we have said enough. You are right, he replied. Two virtues remain to be discovered in the State—first,

(440) that when a man’s desires violently prevail over his reason, he reviles himself, and is angry at the violence within him, and that in this struggle, which is like the struggle of factions in a State, his spirit is on the side of his reason;— but for the passionate or spirited element to take part with the desires when reason decides that she should not be opposed 3 , is a sort of thing which I believe that you never observed occurring in yourself, nor, as I should imagine, in any one else? Certainly not. Suppose that a man thinks he has done a wrong to another, the nobler he is the less able is he to feel indignant at any suffering, such as hunger, or cold, or any other pain which the injured person may inflict upon him—these he deems to be just, and, as I say, his anger refuses to be excited by them. True, he said. But when he thinks that he is the sufferer of the wrong, then he boils and chafes, and is on the side of what he believes to be justice; and because he suffers hunger or cold or other pain he is only the more determined to persevere and conquer. His noble spirit will not be quelled until he either slays or is slain; or until he hears the voice of the shepherd, that is, reason, bidding his dog bark no more. The illustration is perfect, he replied; and in our State, as we were saying, the auxiliaries were to be dogs, and to hear the voice of the rulers, who are their shepherds. I perceive, I said, that you quite understand me; there is, however, a further point which I wish you to consider.

(128) Just as the meek spirit of the heart goeth through the astringent and bitter quality, and overcometh it; and though it be indeed infected with the astringent and bitter spirit, yet it teareth and breaketh thorough, as a conqueror: But if it should wilfully sit still in the hollow hole in the astringent and bitter spirit, and suffer itself to be taken captive, and would not fight, then the fault were its own.

(57) Behold, thou poor Soul in thy Bath of Thorns, where is thy Home? Art thou at Home in this World? Why then dost thou not seek the Favour and Friendship of the World? Why dost thou not hunt after the temporal Honour, after Pleasure and Riches, that it may go well with thee in this World? Why dost thou make thyself a Fool to the World, and art every one's Owl and Footstool? Why dost thou suffer thyself to be despised and abused by those that are inferior to thee, and know less than thou? Why shouldst thou not be stately and brave with those seeming holy Hypocrites? And then thou wouldst be beloved, and no Body would abuse thee; and thou wouldst be more safe and secure in thy Body and Goods, than in this Way, wherein thou art but the World's Owl and Fool.

(428) And will there be in our city more of these true guardians or more smiths? The smiths, he replied, will be far more numerous. Will not the guardians be the smallest of all the classes who receive a name from the profession of some kind of knowledge? Much the smallest. And so by reason of the smallest part or class, and of the knowledge which resides in this presiding and ruling part of itself, the whole State, being thus constituted according to nature, will be wise; and this, which has the only knowledge worthy to be called wisdom, has been ordained by nature to be of all classes the least. Most true. Thus, then, I said, the nature and place in the State of one of the four virtues has somehow or other been discovered. And, in my humble opinion, very satisfactorily discovered, he replied. Again, I said, there is no difficulty in seeing the nature of courage, and in what part that quality resides which gives the name of courageous to the State. How do you mean? Why, I said, every one who calls any State courageous or cowardly, will be thinking of the part which fights and goes out to war on the State’s behalf. No one, he replied, would ever think of any other. The rest of the citizens may be courageous or may be cowardly, but their courage or cowardice will not, as I conceive, have the effect of making the city either the one or the other. Certainly not. The city will be courageous in virtue of a portion of herself which preserves under all circumstances that opinion

(613) but in the end only look foolish, slinking away with their ears draggling on their shoulders, and without a crown; but the true runner comes to the finish and receives the prize and is crowned. And this is the way with the just; he who endures to the end of every action and occasion of his entire life has a good report and carries off the prize which men have to bestow. True. And now you must allow me to repeat of the just the blessings which you were attributing to the fortunate unjust. I shall say of them, what you were saying of the others, that as they grow older, they become rulers in their own city if they care to be; they marry whom they like and give in marriage to whom they will; all that you said of the others I now say of these. And, on the other hand, of the unjust I say that the greater number, even though they escape in their youth, are found out at last and look foolish at the end of their course, and when they come to be old and miserable are flouted alike by stranger and citizen; they are beaten and then come those things unfit for ears polite, as you truly term them; they will be racked and have their eyes burned out, as you were saying. And you may suppose that I have repeated the remainder of your tale of horrors. But will you let me assume, without reciting them, that these things are true? Certainly, he said, what you say is true.

(2) The Prince was greatly pleased and smiled. But when Hsü Wu Kuei went out, Nü Shang asked him, saying, "What can you have been saying to his Highness? Whenever I address him, it is either in a pacific sense, based upon the Canons of Poetry, History, Rites, and Music; or in a belligerent sense, based upon the Golden Roster or the Six Plans of Battle. I have transacted with great success innumerable matters entrusted to me, yet his Highness has never vouchsafed a smile. What can you have been saying to make him so pleased as all this?" "I merely told him," replied Hsü Wu Kuei, "how I judged of dogs and horses." "Was that all?" enquired Nü Shang, incredulously. "Have you not heard," said Hsü Wu Kuei, "of the outlaw of Yüeh? After several days' absence from his State, he was glad to meet any one he had known there. After a month, he was glad to meet any one he had even seen there. And after a year, he was glad to meet any one who was in any way like to his fellow-countrymen. Is not this a case of absence from one's kind increasing the desire to be with them? "Thus a man who had fled into the wilderness, where bishop-wort chokes the path of the weasel and stoat, now advancing, now stopping,—how he would rejoice if the footfall of a fellow-creature broke upon his ear. And how much more were he to hear the sound of a brother's, of a relative's voice at his side. Long it is, I ween, since his Highness has heard the voice of a pure man at his side!"

(6) 'Having understood that the senses are distinct (from the Âtman), and that their rising and setting (their waking and sleeping) belongs to them in their distinct existence (and not to the Âtman), a wise man grieves no more.'

(95) In brief, the simple plain man must be his fool, whereas he himself is indeed a proud angel, and is in his love but a dead man. This sort of party also will have its looking-glass in the following chapter. III.

(2) O Arjuna! The turbulent senses carry away the mind even of the learned man though he is striving to control them.

(3) "I will accustom myself to the dress," replied Chuang Tzŭ; and after practising for three days, he went again to see the young prince, who accompanied him into his father's presence. The latter drew a sharp sword and awaited Chuang Tzŭ's approach. But Chuang Tzŭ, when he entered the door of the audience chamber, did not hurry forward, neither did he prostrate himself before the prince. "What have you to say to me," cried the prince, "that you have obtained your introduction through the Heir Apparent?" "I have heard," replied Chuang Tzŭ, "that your Highness loves sword-play. Therefore I have come to exhibit my skill." "What can you do in that line?" asked the prince. "Were I to meet an opponent," said Chuang Tzŭ, "at every ten paces, I could go on for a thousand li without being stopped." "Bravo!" cried the prince. "There is not your match in the empire." "When I fight," continued Chuang Tzŭ, "I make a show of being weak but push a vigorous attack. The last to start, I am the first to arrive. I should like your Highness to make trial of me."

(4) He who knows success, his wishes succeed, both his divine and human wishes. The ear indeed is success.

(1) Already on my Lady's face mine eyes Again were fastened, and with these my mind, And from all other purpose was withdrawn; And she smiled not; but "If I were to smile," She unto me began, "thou wouldst become Like Semele, when she was turned to ashes. Because my beauty, that along the stairs Of the eternal palace more enkindles, As thou hast seen, the farther we ascend, If it were tempered not, is so resplendent That all thy mortal power in its effulgence Would seem a leaflet that the thunder crushes. We are uplifted to the seventh splendour, That underneath the burning Lion's breast Now radiates downward mingled with his power. Fix in direction of thine eyes the mind, And make of them a mirror for the figure That in this mirror shall appear to thee." He who could know what was the pasturage My sight had in that blessed countenance, When I transferred me to another care, Would recognize how grateful was to me Obedience unto my celestial escort, By counterpoising one side with the other.

(1) Broke the deep lethargy within my head A heavy thunder, so that I upstarted, Like to a person who by force is wakened; And round about I moved my rested eyes, Uprisen erect, and steadfastly I gazed, To recognise the place wherein I was. True is it, that upon the verge I found me Of the abysmal valley dolorous, That gathers thunder of infinite ululations. Obscure, profound it was, and nebulous, So that by fixing on its depths my sight Nothing whatever I discerned therein. "Let us descend now into the blind world," Began the Poet, pallid utterly; "I will be first, and thou shalt second be." And I, who of his colour was aware, Said: "How shall I come, if thou art afraid, Who'rt wont to be a comfort to my fears?" And he to me: "The anguish of the people Who are below here in my face depicts That pity which for terror thou hast taken. Let us go on, for the long way impels us." Thus he went in, and thus he made me enter The foremost circle that surrounds the abyss.