nothing which One who is all-powerful cannot do.'

'Nothing.'

'But can God do evil, then?'

'Nay; by no means.'

'Then, evil is nothing,' said she, 'since He to whom nothing is
impossible is unable to do evil.'

'Art thou mocking me,' said I, 'weaving a labyrinth of tangled
arguments, now seeming to begin where thou didst end, and now to end
where thou didst begin, or dost thou build up some wondrous circle of
Divine simplicity? For, truly, a little before thou didst begin with
happiness, and say it was the supreme good, and didst declare it to be
seated in the supreme Godhead. God Himself, too, thou didst affirm to be
supreme good and all-complete happiness; and from this thou didst go on
to add, as by the way, the proof that no one would be happy unless he
were likewise God. Again, thou didst say that the very form of good was
the essence both of God and of happiness, and didst teach that the
absolute One was the absolute good which was sought by universal nature.
Thou didst maintain, also, that God rules the universe by the governance
of goodness, that all things obey Him willingly, and that evil has no
existence in nature. And all this thou didst unfold without the help of
assumptions from without, but by inherent and proper proofs, drawing
credence one from the other.'

Then answered she: 'Far is it from me to mock thee; nay, by the blessing
of God, whom we lately addressed in prayer, we have achieved the most
important of all objects. For such is the form of the Divine essence,
that neither can it pass into things external, nor take up anything
external into itself; but, as Parmenides says of it,

'"In body like to a sphere on all sides perfectly rounded,"

it rolls the restless orb of the universe, keeping itself motionless the
while. And if I have also employed reasonings not drawn from without,
but lying within the compass of our subject, there is no cause for thee
to marvel, since thou hast learnt on Plato's authority that words ought
to be akin to the matter of which they treat.'

SONG XII.

ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE.

Blest he whose feet have stood
Beside the fount of good;
Blest he whose will could break
Earth's chains for wisdom's sake!

The Thracian bard, 'tis said,
Mourned his dear consort dead;
To hear the plaintive strain
The woods moved in his train,
And the stream ceased to flow,
Held by so soft a woe;
The deer without dismay