Chapter XIX

Complain not that in Chains, thou here art firmly bound;
Complain not that Earth's Yoke, doth crush thee to the Ground.
Complain not that the World is but a Prison wide;
'Tis only thy complainings that build thy Dungeon round.
And ask not how Life's Riddle will finally unfold;
For soon without thy asking, unfolded 'twill be found.
Say not Love has forsaken or yet forgotten thee;
Love ne'er has Man forsaken; thy Words all falsely sound.
Nor tremble when Death dreaded appears in Terror's Form;
He falls before the Hero, who is with Courage crowned.
Ne'er chase the Phantom, Pleasure; for like a hungry Lion,
'Twill turn and rend in pieces the Hunter most renowned.
Throw not thyself in Fetters; else will Men sternly say:
Complain not of thy Fetters; for thou thyself hast bound.

Love's Freedom