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

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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.

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