Nay more, sees even after that life's end,
Its own appointed destiny is reached,
To take fresh shape, its course to run anew,
And reap what it had sown before, for take
The tree, its fruit but falls to reach its base.
The calf his mother easily doth find
Amidst a thousand cows, to suck the milk;
And all our deeds doth likewise follow us,
E'en after death, and they are not our own,
But preordainèd laws, that must perforce
Be anywise fulfilled, and He alone
It is that sees their strict fulfilment here.
For ah! why should the noblest maiden and
The fairest and the wisest in the land
Be mated to the meanest wretch through life?
All that is deemed the highest in the world--
Beauty and honour, valour, virtue, wealth--
All these availeth not, her mind is blank;
She herself knows not whom to love and wed;
Not e'en dear friendship kindles in her breast
The lamp of love, but suddenly
A passing stranger's glance, a simple look
Instinctive plants that love, which slow takes shape,
Despite a thousand counter forces, till
At last the final end is reached: a look
Is thus enough to bind two hearts for life,
And this is but the true fulfilment of
A preordainèd law that in the life
Before had all but reached perfection full,
Or their appointed shape had all but tak'n,