Once more, in the matter of wealth: if thou throw thine all on a chance, Men will come around thee, and wait, and watch the turning of the wheel: And if, in the lottery of life, thou hast drawn a splendid prize, What foresight hadst thou, and skill! yea, what enterprize and wisdom! But if it fall out against thee, and thou fail in thy perilous endeavour, Behold, the simple did sow, and hath reaped the right harvest of his folly: And the world will be gladly excused, nor will reach out a finger to help; For why should this speculative dullard be a whirlpool to all around him? Go to, let him sink by himself: we knew what the end of it would be:-- For the man hath missed his mark, and his fellows look no further. Also, touching guilt and innocence: a man shall walk in his uprightness Year after year without reproach, in charity and honesty with all: But in one evil hour the enemy shall come in like a flood; Shall track him, and tempt him, and hem him,--till he knoweth not whither to fly. Perchance his famishing little ones shall scream in his ears for bread, And, maddened by that fierce cry, he rusheth as a thief upon the world; The world that hath left him to starve, itself wallowing in plenty,-- The world, that denieth him his rights,--he daringly robbeth it of them. I say not, such an one is innocent; but, small is the measure of his guilt To that of his wealthy neighbour, who would not help him at his need; To that of the selfish epicure, who turned away with coldness from his tale; To that of unsuffering thousands, who look with complacence on his fall. Or perchance the continual dropping of the venomed words of spite, Insult and injury and scorn, have galled and pierced his heart; Yet, with all long-suffering and meekness, he forgiveth unto seventy times seven: Till, in some weaker moment, tempted beyond endurance, He striketh, more in anger than in hate; and, alas! for his heavy chance, He hath smitten unto instant death his spiteful life-long enemy! And none was by to see it; and all men knew of their contentions: Fierce voices shout for his blood, and rude hands hurry him to judgment. Then man's verdict cometh,--Murderer, with forethought malice; And his name is a note of execration; his guilt is too black for devils. But to the Righteous Judge, seemeth he the suffering victim; For his anger was not unlawful, but became him as a Christian and a man; And though his guilt was grievous when he struck that heavy bitter blow, Yet light is the sin of the smiter, and verily kicketh the beam, To the weight of that man's wickedness, whose slow relentless hatred Met him at every turn, with patient continuance in evil. Doubtless, eternal wrath shall be heaped upon that spiteful enemy.