Читать книгу The Consolation of Philosophy - Boethius - Страница 17

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.