The lion-slaying hare now scampered to his friends, Exclaiming: “Good news bring I; let joy know no ends! Good news! Good news! Festivities bring into play! The hell-cat’s gone to hell, from which he came our way. Good news! Good news! That foe to all our lives, and peace. Has had his teeth extracted, through our Maker’s grace. He who so many crushed with paw of tyranny, Like rubbish has been swept by death’s broom clean away.” 475 A convocation now was held by all the beasts, Hilarity and joy enlivened all their breasts. About the hare, as candle, they, moths-like, all flocked. All their respects presented; none were found who mocked. They all declared: “Thou art an angel by heaven sent (Angel of death, however, he to lion went). Whatever thou may’st be, our souls thy sacrifice! Thou’st triumphed. For such prowess praise will not suffice. Our God it was endowed thee with such wondrous skill. May God be praised! Deliverance is by His will. 480 Pray, tell us all about it. How was such thing done? How couldst thou compass to deceive th’ experienced drone? Relate in full. ’Twill comfort give to all our souls. Detail the facts; balm will they be for bygone doles. Recount at length; for, ah, how many tyrannies Did we not suffer from him, who now stark dead lies!” Quoth he: “Most venerable Sirs! God’s grace did all. What could a hare accomplish without Him at call? He strength of purpose gave me,--light from heaven above. That light it was that nerved me in my every move. 485 God granteth crowning grace, to further cause of truth, ’Tis God also who sends vicissitudes on earth. He, ’tis, alternately, who parties makes prevail. Now mere opinionists, now men of light avail. If then, in turn, thou now thyself find uppermost, Why let hypocrisy, presumption, make thee boast?” Joy not o’er great prosperity. It does not last. Airs give not thou thyself; thou’rt but a passing guest. They whose eternal kingship lasts beyond all times,[177] Who sing God’s praise beyond the seven spheres and climes, 490 They more endure than transient reigns of kings’ short rolls. They are the never-failing feeders of men’s souls. If thou the pleasures of the world short time forego, Eternal bliss may compensate th’ imbroglio. Know that this nether world but for a period lasts. T’ abandon it, eternal rest to man forecasts. Give ear. Forsake all mundane ease, all earthly rest; Then will thy soul enjoy heaven’s cup with double zest. Cast thou the carcase vile of earthly pomp to dogs. The cup of mere surmise reject; the soul it clogs. 495 VI. The Greater (Spiritual) Warfare.