Page:King Alfred's Version of the Consolations of Boethius.djvu/295



XXVII
Why should you harass    with wicked hatred

Your spirits weary,    as the waves of ocean

Set a-tossing    the ice-cold sea,

Urged by the blast? Why do you blame,

Your fate reproach    that she has no power?

Why can you not bide    the bitter coming

Of common death    by God created

When he is drawing    each day towards you?

Can you not perceive    that he is ever pursuing

Each thing begotten,    of earthly bearing,

Beasts and birds? Death also is busy

After mankind,    all over this earth,

The dreadful huntsman,    holding the chase;

Nor will he truly    the trail abandon

Before that he catch    at last the quarry

That he was pursuing. Oh! it is pitiful

That borough-dwellers    cannot bide him,

But luckless mortals    like the race of birds

Are flying onward    fain to meet him,

Or as beasts of the forest    that are ever fighting,

Each one seeking    to slay the other.

But it is wicked    for any creature

That towards another    in his inmost temper

He should hatred bear,    like bird or beast

But most right it were    that every mortal

To others should render    their due reward,