O Mischief-maker, passing-on thy way
So lovely is thy mien, all creatures must
Cry out—It is debarred to things of dust
To walk so winningly.
Why shouldst thou keep from tyranny anew?
Why shouldst thou not betray another one?
What matter if he die? Thou hast but done
What thou wast born to do.
Who cares not for his heart nor for his creed
Is the idolater. His worthless name