Page:King Alfred's Version of the Consolations of Boethius.djvu/247



He oftenest works    in despite of Your will.

Ah! You Eternal    and You Almighty

Author and Ruler    of all creation,

Pity the offspring    of Your poor world,

Even this race of men,    through Your mighty power.

Why, O God Eternal,    grant You ever

That Fate at the will    of wicked mortals

Should turn herself    on earth so swiftly?

Often to the guiltless    great harm she works.

The wicked are seated    in worldly kingdoms

Upon their high-seats,    trampling the holy

Under their feet;    no man may find out

Why Fate falls    so foully awry.

So also are hidden    here in this world

In many a borough    brightest virtues,

Whereas the sinful    in every season

Treat most evilly    all those others

That are more righteous,    to rule more worthy.

False-faced guile    long has gone

Wrapt up in wiles. Now here in the world

Oaths basely broken    bring no scathe.

If You, O Chieftain,    will not check Fate,

But suffer her    in self-will to remain,

Then this do I know,    that nations will doubt

Far over earth's fields,    all but a few.

O my Sovereign,    You that see

All worldly creatures,    with eyes of kindness

Look on mortals,    for they are moiling,

Battling here    in the world's billows,

Poor folk of the earth;    pity them therefore.