Michael Eyquen de Montaigne

Bliss itself is not worth having,
If we're by compulsion blest.

Bliss itself is not worth having,
If we're by compulsion blest.

Blest tears of soul-felt penitence!
In whose benign, redeeming flow
Is felt the first, the only sense
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Blest tears of soul-felt penitence!
In whose benign, redeeming flow
Is felt the first, the only sense
Of guiltless joy that guilt can know.

So closely our whims on our miseries tread,
That the laugh is awak'd ere the tear can be dried.

So closely our whims on our miseries tread,
That the laugh is awak'd ere the tear can be dried.

Wouldst thou, or thou,
Forego what's now,
For all that hope may say?
No--joy's read more

Wouldst thou, or thou,
Forego what's now,
For all that hope may say?
No--joy's reply,
From every eye,
Is, "Live we while we may."

Amongst so many borrowed things, am glad if I can steal one,
disguising and altering it for some new read more

Amongst so many borrowed things, am glad if I can steal one,
disguising and altering it for some new service.