still alive in 1138. He is called the “poet of penitence,” and a gloomy turn was given to his thought by an unhappy love attachment in his youth. A few stanzas of one of his poems run thus:
Sleepless, upon my bed the hours I number,
And, rising, seek the house of God, while slumber
Lies heavy on men’s eyes, and dreams encumber
Their souls in visions of the night.
in sin and folly passed my early years,
Wherefore I am ashamed, and life’s arrears
Now strive to pay, the while my tears
Have been my food by day and night.
********
Short is man’s life, and full of care and sorrow,
This way and that he turns some ease to borrow,
Like to a flower he blooms, and on the morrow
Is gone—a vision of the night.
How does the weight of sin my soul oppress,
Because God's law too often I transgress;
I mourn and sigh, with tears of bitterness
My bed I water all the night.
********
My youth wanes like a shadow that’s cast,
Swifter than eagle’s wings my years fly fast,
And I remember not my gladness past,
Either by day or yet by night.
