Can I torn so featly,though many tales
Once I wove,when I was happy.
Oft now I find notthe words familiar,
I that in old timesoft made strange ones.
Me, wellnigh blind,have these worldly blessings
Drawn in my follyto this dim cavern,
And robbed me entirelyof reason and comfort
With their false faith,when I had fain ever
To them trusted.To me they have turned
Their backs, oh! cruelly,and kept joy from me.
Ah! why were ye minded,my friends of this world,
In speech or in songto say I was happy
Here in this world?The words are not true ones,
For worldly blessingsabide not always.
III
Boeth. i. metr. 2. Cf. p. 4.
Ah! it is fearfuland fathomless deep.
The mirky pitwhere the mind toileth.
When the blasts of tempestsbeat against it
Of worldly afflictions;then in its fighting
Its own true lightit leaveth behind it,
And in woe forgetteththe weal eternal.
It dasheth onwardinto this world's darkness,
Weary with sorrows.So hath it now
This soul befallen,for now it nought knoweth
Of good before God,but great grief
From the world unfriendly;it wanteth comfort.
