“Child, my child, thou youngest offspring “Of my loins, now place thy one ear “Close beside thy father’s muzzle, “And suck in my solemn words! “Guard against man’s ways of thinking, “They destroy both soul and body; “‘Mongst all men there’s no such thing as “Any ordinary man. “E’en the Germans, once so noble, “E’en the very sons of Tuisco, “Our own primitive relations, “They too have degenerated. “They’ve become now faithless, godless, “Even preaching atheism-- “Child, my child, be on thy guard, “‘Gainst both Feuerbach and Bauer![30] “Never be an Atheist, “Monster void of all respect for “The Creator--a Creator “’Twas who made this universe! “High above us, sun and moon “And the stars too (both the tail-less “And all those with tails provided) “Are reflections of His power. “Down below us, land and sea “Are the echo of His glory, “And each living creature praises “Evermore His excellencies. “E’en the smallest silver-louse that “In the aged pilgrim’s beard “In life’s pilgrimage is sharer, “Sings the great Eternal’s praises! “In yon starry bright pavilion, “On the golden seat of power, “World-directing and majestic, “Sits a mighty polar bear. “Free from spot and snow-white glitt’ring “Is his skin; his head is cover’d “With a crown of diamonds, “Which illumines all the heavens. “In his face is harmony, “And the silent deeds of thinking; “If he signs but with his sceptre, “All the spheres resound with singing. “At his feet bear-saints are sitting “Piously, who meekly suffer’d “While on earth, and in their paws they “Hold the palms of martyrdom. “Ofttimes one amongst them rises, “Then another,--by the Spirit “Seeming mov’d, and straightway dance they “Their most solemn sacred dance-- “Sacred dance, where mercy’s radiance “Renders talent quite superfluous, “And the soul for very rapture “From the skin attempts to leap! “O shall I, unworthy Troll, “E’er partake this great salvation? “And from earth’s debasing sorrows “To the realms of bliss soar upwards? “O shall I, all-drunk with heaven, “In the stars’ pavilion yonder, “With the palm and with the glory, “Dance before the Master’s throne?” CAPUT IX. Like the tongue as red as scarlet, Which a swarthy Freiligrathian Moorish prince with scornful fury From his sullen mouth protruded, So the moon from out the gloomy Clouds of heaven advanced. Afar off Cataracts are roaring, sleepless And morosely through the night. Atta Troll upon the summit Of his fav’rite rock stands lonely, Lonely, and to the abyss Downward howls he in the nightwind: “Yes, I am a bear, I am so,-- “Him ye christen shaggy bear, “Growler, Isegrim, and Bruin, “And heav’n knows how many others.