My God, what cruel war!
Two men I find in me:
One, all aflame with love for thee,
Would keep my heart forever true to thee;
The other, to thy will rebel,
Against thy law bids me revolt.
One, all spirit, all celestial,
Would have me ever heavenward bound,
And, touched by goods eternal, count
All else as naught;
While th'other, by its fatal weight,
Keeps me to earth bowed down.
Alas! at war with my own self,
Where shall I find peace?
I will — and never I achieve;
I will — but, O utter wretchedness!
The good I love I leave undone,
The evil that I hate I do.
O grace, O saving ray,
Come, reconcile me with myself,
And, taming with a gentle sway
This man to thee so contrary,
Make thy willing slave
Of this slave of death.
Jean Racine

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