Chapter_201

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Yet, unto the Mother, the Goddess adored,

For thine helping with prayers would I fain draw near.

Whose praises, with those of the Forest-lord,

Beside my portal chanted I hear

By maidens oft, when the night is still.

But, Hiero, seeing thyself hast skill

To interpret the lore of the ancient seer,

This knowest thou⁠—This is the high Gods’ will

To apportion alway afflictions twain

For each one boon that on man they bestow.

It is only the foolish who cannot sustain

With fit resignation their burden of woe:

But spirits heroic their sorrow can hide

’Neath a calm smile; so life’s fairer side

To the world do they show.