The Consolation of Philosophy

by Boethius

Stars shed no light
  Through the black night,
    When the clouds hide;
And the lashed wave,
  If the winds rave
    O'er ocean's tide, —

Though once serene
  As day's fair sheen, —
    Soon fouled and spoiled
By the storm's spite,
  Shows to the sight
    Turbid and soiled.

Oft the fair rill,
  Down the steep hill
    Seaward that strays,
Some tumbled block
  Of fallen rock
    Hinders and stays.

Then art thou fain
  Clear and most plain
    Truth to discern,
In the right way
  Firmly to stay,
    Nor from it turn?

Joy, hope and fear
  Suffer not near,
    Drive grief away:
Shackled and blind
  And lost is the mind
    Where these have sway.