Him answered his disciples: “Master, grieve us not. Fresh sorrow, through pretences, add not to our lot. 265 Such heavy burden to endure we’ve not the power. Poor suffering weaklings we, in sad affliction’s hour. The heavens appear to raise themselves all vastly high; But true sublimity’s God’s attribute. We sigh. The food of every bird He gives in providence; He says whose figs devoured shall be these ten days hence. Who ’d give, in lieu of mother’s milk, to infants, bread, Would kill them with improper food before them spread. But when their teeth are grown, and deck their little mouths, Themselves will ask for bread; milk suits not then their growths. 270 The unfledged chick is yet for flight all unprepared; Attempting it, he falls a prey to puss, poor bird! His wings well pinioned, he soars high in breezy air; Needs no encouragement; his instinct leads him there. Each howling imp is stilled at sound of thy sole voice; And words from thee are utmost joy to all our race. Our ears are gladdened as they catch thy tongue’s converse, Each desert grows a garden, when thou’rt freshness’ source. With thee amongst us, earth a foretaste gives of heaven, Thou’rt our delight, from morn to eve our longed-for leaven. 275 Without thee, day’s refulgence we cannot employ, If thou art present, every care is turned to joy. High station, true, may be attained by charlatan; But moral worth alone gives eminence to man.” To them, now, he replied: “Your prayer ’s of no avail. My counsel take and ponder. Naught else shall prevail. If I’m a trusted man, my word is not a lie, E’en though I’d say that black is white, or earth is sky. If I’m perfection, who the perfect’s word denies? If I am otherwise, why all this fuss and noise? 280 Forth from my solitude to come I’m not designed. I’m communing with God; to His will I’m resigned.”