“Ne’er shalt thou find escape while in the world!
What profiteth thee then thy loneliness?
Take the good things of life while yet thou mayst.
Repentance else too late awaiteth thee.
Like spears and javelins are the joys of sense
That pierce and rend the mortal frames of us.
These that thou callest ‘the good things of life’—
Good of that ilk to me is nothing worth.
On every hand the love of pleasure yields,
And the thick gloom of ignorance is rent
In twain. Know this, O Evil One, avaunt!
Here, O Destroyer, shalt thou not prevail.”