Who on power sets his aim,
First must his own spirit tame;
He must shun his neck to thrust
'Neath th' unholy yoke of lust.
For, though India's far-off land
Bow before his wide command,
Utmost Thule homage pay —
If he cannot drive away
Haunting care and black distress,
In his power, he's powerless.
Monadnock Valley Press > Boethius > The Consolation of Philosophy