Page:King Alfred's Version of the Consolations of Boethius.djvu/248



You may by the sun    see most clearly,

And by each of the other    orbs of heaven

That shine most brightly    over the boroughs,

If a dark cloud    comes before them

They cannot give forth    such a bright gleam

Till the thick mist    grow thinner before them.

So too the south breeze    fiercely stirs

The calm grey ocean    clear as glass;

Then mighty billows    mingle the waters,

Stir the whale-sea;    fierce waxes ocean

That but shortly before    was blithe to look on.

Often too the well-spring    is wont to trickle

From the hoar cliff,    cool and sparkling,

And onward flowing    a straight course follows,

To its home fleets,    till there falls upon it

A rock from the mountain,    that lies in its midst

Rolled from the peak;    parted in twain

The rill is broken,    the brook's clear water

Stirred and clouded;    the stream is turned

Away from its course,    cleft into runnels.

So now the darkness    that dims your heart

Wishes to turn back    the light of my teaching,

And sorely trouble    your spirit's thoughts.

But if you are willing,    as well you may be,

The light of the truth    clearly to learn,

The brightness of faith,    then shall you forsake

Vain surfeit of pleasure,    profitless joys.