Doth some one say that there be gods above? There are not; no, there are not. Let no fool, Led by the old false fable, thus deceive you. Look at the facts themselves, yielding my words No undue credence; for I say that kings Kill, rob, break oaths, lay cities waste by fraud, And doing thus are happier than those Who live calm pious lives day after day. How many little states that serve the gods Are subject to the godless but more strong, Made slaves by might of a superior army! Poverty BY ALCAEUS (Greek lyric poet, B.C. 611-580; banished for his resistance to tyrants. Translation by Sir William Jones) The worst of ills, and hardest to endure, Past hope, past cure, Is Penury, who, with her sister-mate Disorder, soon brings down the loftiest state, And makes it desolate. This truth the sage of Sparta told, Aristodemus old,-- "Wealth makes the man." On him that's poor Proud Worth looks down, and Honor shuts the door. The Beggar's Complaint (Ancient Japanese classic) The heaven and earth they call so great, For me are very small; The sun and moon they call so bright, For me ne'er shine at all. Are all men sad, or only I? And what have I obtained-- What good the gift of mortal life, That prize so rarely gained-- If nought my chilly back protects But one thin grass-cloth coat, In tatters hanging like the weeds That on the billows float? If here in smoke-stained, darksome hut, Upon the bare cold ground, I make my wretched bed of straw, And hear the mournful sound-- Hear how mine aged parents groan, And wife and children cry, Father and mother, children, wife, Huddling in misery-- If in the rice-pan, nigh forgot, The spider hangs its nest, And from the hearth no smoke goes up Where all is so unblest? Shame and despair are mine from day to day, But, being no bird, I cannot fly away. Free Labor BY HAGGAI (Hebrew prophet, B.C. 515) He that earneth wages earneth wages to put it into a bag with holes. Plutus BY ARISTOPHANES (Greek comedy writer and satirist; B.C. 450-380. There is probably not a Socialist in the world who has not been asked the question: "Who will do the dirty work?" It is interesting to see this difficulty set forth in a comedy which was staged in Athens in the year 408 B.C. Chremylus and Blepsidemus, two citizens, have taken in charge Plutus, the god of wealth, who is blind. They have undertaken to cure him of his blindness; but an old hag by the name of Poverty appears, and offers to convince them that their success would mean a calamity to the human race)