The Consolation of Philosophy

by Boethius

Book I.

Song I. Boethius' Complaint.

Who wrought my studious numbers
  Smoothly once in happier days,
Now perforce in tears and sadness
  Learn a mournful strain to raise.
Lo, the Muses, grief-dishevelled,
  Guide my pen and voice my woe;
Down their cheeks unfeigned the tear drops
  To my sad complainings flow!
These alone in danger's hour
  Faithful found, have dared attend
On the footsteps of the exile
  To his lonely journey's end.
These that were the pride and pleasure
  Of my youth and high estate
Still remain the only solace
  Of the old man's mournful fate.
Old? Ah yes; swift, ere I knew it,
  By these sorrows on me pressed
Age hath come; lo, Grief hath bid me
  Wear the garb that fits her best.
O'er my head untimely sprinkled
  These white hairs my woes proclaim,
And the skin hangs loose and shrivelled
  On this sorrow-shrunken frame.
Blest is death that intervenes not
  In the sweet, sweet years of peace,
But unto the broken-hearted,
  When they call him, brings release!
Yet Death passes by the wretched,
  Shuts his ear and slumbers deep;
Will not heed the cry of anguish,
  Will not close the eyes that weep.
For, while yet inconstant Fortune
  Poured her gifts and all was bright,
Death's dark hour had all but whelmed me
  In the gloom of endless night.
Now, because misfortune's shadow
  Hath o'erclouded that false face,
Cruel Life still halts and lingers,
  Though I loathe his weary race.
Friends, why did ye once so lightly
  Vaunt me happy among men?
Surely he who so hath fallen
  Was not firmly founded then.


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