Dull, undimensioned, I ride at last to Dinadan;
he is the only lord without a lady;
he fights and is not enclosed in fight; he laughs
but he has not the honor and the irony of the court of culture.
As Palomides before his christening came
To the understanding of the presence
So come I at last to see the encultured irony
That all things lie in the Web of Exchange;
Man makes and breaks, he borrows and lends
And the God that is all in all sends
A compensation to those who enter communion with him;
But outside the visible walls of the chalice still
The Law, made at once more lenient and severe by the Word,
Enforces the way of the Exchange.
My brother’s shelter for me, and mine for him,
The Law of Love raised to the nth,
For who is my brother, and who my neighbor,
If not all men–for the Lord came not to save the righteous.
As Dinadan lept in the depths of the sea
His wisdom grew in the path, free
From the casual cares of courtliness and care
But his laughter sounds a hollow song
To those in despair; for Dinadan met a most grisly end
Roasted with fire by his one-time friends.
Yet all things recompense on the Web of Exchange,
Where the Medium is as tedious and pained
As men would have it, for this is made plain:
You are forgiven in the measure you forgive.
Money is only a medium of exchange.