The God of Honest People
Le Dieu de bonnes gens
There is a God; and before him I bow,
Poor and contented, nor utter a vow:
Marking his dealings with Earth, I perceive
Evil thereon — to what's good only cleave.
Pleasure to my philosophical mind
Showing the wisdom that governs mankind,
Thus to the God of the true and the just,
Goblet in hand, I complacently trust.
Snug in my corner — if Poverty keep
Watch by my pillow, nor trouble my sleep —
Hope with her lullabies — Love, too — can vouch
How I can dream of a downier couch!
Others to courtiers' gods may bow down,
I, who believe Heaven scarcely can frown,
Thus to the God of the true and the just,
Goblet in hand, can complacently trust.
Proudly his fortunes a Conqueror swayed:
Sceptres and laws into playthings he made;
Whilst, to this day, on the frontlet of Kings,
Mark ye the dust of his feet — how it clings!
Deified Monarchs, ye now may crawl out —
I, who unreasoning masters would flout,
Thus to the God of the true and the just,
Goblet in hand, can complacently trust.
Throned in our halls beneath Victory's wing,
Art from soft climates her marvels would bring:
There, the rude spawn of the North have I seen
Shaking the frost from their mantles of green
Fallen our state, and yet Albion braves;
Mindless how fickle are Fate and the waves!
I to the God of the true and the just,
Goblet in hand, can complacently trust.
Hark! how the priest would his menaces urge —
Lo! to the last of our moments we verge —
Soon shall the veil from Eternity fall —
All shall be ended — Time, universe, all!
Quick, then, your cheeks, O ye Cherubim, swell —
Waken the dead — those who slumber so well!
I to the God of the true and the just,
Goblet in hand, can complacently trust.
No! 'tis an error — no, God is not wrath!
All, whom he made, he upholds on their path.
Wines, that he gives! Friendship, tutelar fay!
Love, who like him dost create, in thy way!
Lend my philosophy some of your charms;
Dissipate dreams that are black with alarms!
So to the God of the true and the just,
Goblet in hand, we may all of us trust.
There is a God; and before him I bow,
Poor and contented, nor utter a vow:
Marking his dealings with Earth, I perceive
Evil thereon — to what's good only cleave.
Pleasure to my philosophical mind
Showing the wisdom that governs mankind,
Thus to the God of the true and the just,
Goblet in hand, I complacently trust.
Snug in my corner — if Poverty keep
Watch by my pillow, nor trouble my sleep —
Hope with her lullabies — Love, too — can vouch
How I can dream of a downier couch!
Others to courtiers' gods may bow down,
I, who believe Heaven scarcely can frown,
Thus to the God of the true and the just,
Goblet in hand, can complacently trust.
Proudly his fortunes a Conqueror swayed:
Sceptres and laws into playthings he made;
Whilst, to this day, on the frontlet of Kings,
Mark ye the dust of his feet — how it clings!
Deified Monarchs, ye now may crawl out —
I, who unreasoning masters would flout,
Thus to the God of the true and the just,
Goblet in hand, can complacently trust.
Throned in our halls beneath Victory's wing,
Art from soft climates her marvels would bring:
There, the rude spawn of the North have I seen
Shaking the frost from their mantles of green
Fallen our state, and yet Albion braves;
Mindless how fickle are Fate and the waves!
I to the God of the true and the just,
Goblet in hand, can complacently trust.
Hark! how the priest would his menaces urge —
Lo! to the last of our moments we verge —
Soon shall the veil from Eternity fall —
All shall be ended — Time, universe, all!
Quick, then, your cheeks, O ye Cherubim, swell —
Waken the dead — those who slumber so well!
I to the God of the true and the just,
Goblet in hand, can complacently trust.
No! 'tis an error — no, God is not wrath!
All, whom he made, he upholds on their path.
Wines, that he gives! Friendship, tutelar fay!
Love, who like him dost create, in thy way!
Lend my philosophy some of your charms;
Dissipate dreams that are black with alarms!
So to the God of the true and the just,
Goblet in hand, we may all of us trust.
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