Page:A midsummer holiday and other poems (IA midsummerholiday00swin).pdf/194

 'Your voices, forsooth, your most sweet voices, Your worthy voices, your love, your hate, Your choice, who know not whereof your choice is, What stays are these for a stable state? Inconstancy, blind and deaf with its own fierce babble, Swells ever your throats with storm of uncertain cheers: He leans on straws who leans on a light-souled rabble; His trust is frail who puts not his trust in peers.' So shrills the message whose word convinces Of righteousness knaves, of wisdom fools; That serfs may boast them because of princes, And the weak rejoice that the strong man rules.