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Dhammapada · narration sample

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The Consolation of Philosophy · 21 of 78

Book II, Song IV: The Golden Mean

Who founded firm and sure Would ever live secure, In spite of storm and blast Immovable and fast; Whoso would fain deride The ocean’s threatening tide;— His dwelling should not seek On sands or mountain-peak. Upon the mountain’s height The storm-winds wreak their spite: The shifting sands disdain Their burden to sustain. Do thou these perils flee, Fair though the prospect be, And fix thy resting-place On some low rock’s sure base. Then, though the tempests roar, Seas thunder on the shore, Thou in thy stronghold blest And undisturbed shalt rest; Live all thy days serene, And mock the heavens’ spleen.