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That is the bitterest of all,--to wear the yoke of our own
wrong-doing.
That is the bitterest of all,--to wear the yoke of our own
wrong-doing.
There's a one-eyed yellow idol to the north of Khatmandu,
There's a little marble cross below the town,
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There's a one-eyed yellow idol to the north of Khatmandu,
There's a little marble cross below the town,
There's a broken-hearted woman tends the grave of Mad Carew,
And the yellow god forever gazes down.
He is next to the gods whom reason, and not passion, impels; and
who, after weighing the facts, can read more
He is next to the gods whom reason, and not passion, impels; and
who, after weighing the facts, can measure the punishment with
discretion.
[Lat., Diis proximus ille est
Quem ratio non ira movet: qui factor rependens
Consilio punire potest.]
Shakes his ambroisal curls, and gives the nod,
The stamp of fate, and sanction of the god.
Shakes his ambroisal curls, and gives the nod,
The stamp of fate, and sanction of the god.
He who does not punish evil commands it to be done.
He who does not punish evil commands it to be done.
Care should be taken that the punishment does not exceed the
guilt; and also that some men do not read more
Care should be taken that the punishment does not exceed the
guilt; and also that some men do not suffer for offenses for
which others are not even indicted.
[Lat., Cavendum est ne major poena quam culpa sit; et ne iisdem
de causis alii plectantur, alii ne appellentur quidem.]
Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed: for
in the image of God made he read more
Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed: for
in the image of God made he man.
The son of Saturn gave
The nod with his dark brows. The ambrosial curls
Upon the Sovereign read more
The son of Saturn gave
The nod with his dark brows. The ambrosial curls
Upon the Sovereign One's immortal head
Were shaken, and with them the mighty mount,
Olympus trembled.
And that dismal cry rose slowly
And sank slowly through the air,
Full of spirit's melancholy
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And that dismal cry rose slowly
And sank slowly through the air,
Full of spirit's melancholy
And eternity's despair!
And they heart the words it said--
Pan is dead! great Pan is dead!
Pan, Pan is dead!