Man, revile not thou the devil, For the path of life is short, And damnation everlasting Is too true, not mere report. Man, pay all the debts thou owest, For the path of life is long, And thou’lt often have to borrow Just as usual, right or wrong. 39. The three holy kings from the Eastern land Inquired in every city: Where goeth the road to Bethlehem, Ye boys and maidens pretty? The young and the old, they could not tell, The kings went onward discreetly; They follow’d the track of a golden star, That sparkled brightly and sweetly. The star stood still over Joseph’s house, And they enter’d the dwelling lowly; The oxen bellow’d, the infant cried, While sang the three kings holy. 40. My child, we once were children, Two children, little and gay; We crawl’d inside the henhouse, And hid in the straw in play. We crow’d as the cocks are accustom’d, And when the people came by, “Cock-a-doodle-doo!”--and they fancied ’Twas really the cock’s shrill cry. The chests within our courtyard With paper we nicely lined, And in them lived together, In a dwelling quite to our mind. The aged cat of our neighbour Came oft to visit us there; We made her our bows and our curtsies, And plenty of compliments fair. For her health we used to inquire In language friendly and soft; Since then we have ask’d the same question Of many old cats full oft. We used to sit, while we wisely Discoursed, in the way of old men, And lamented that all was better In the olden days than then; How love and truth and religion From out of the world had fled, How very dear was the coffee, How scarce was the gold, we said. Those childish sports have vanish’d, And all is fast rolling away; The world, and the times, and religion, And gold, love, and truth all decay. 41. My heart is sore oppress’d, with sighing I think upon the days of yore; The world was then in calmness lying, And men were peaceful evermore. All now is changed, in mournful chorus Want and confusion round us spread; The Lord seems dead that erst rul’d o’er us Beneath us, is the Devil dead. All now appears so drear and sadden’d, Decay’d and cold, of joy bereft, That, were we not by love still gladden’d, No single resting-place were left. 42. As the gleaming moon is piercing Through the darksome clouds above, So from out time’s darksome mirror Peeps a vision full of love. All upon the deck were sitting, Proudly sailing down the Rhine, And the shores, in summer verdure, In the setting sun did shine. Thoughtfully was I reclining, Bent before a lovely maid; In her beauteous, pallid features Lo, the golden sunlight play’d.