If I lifted up my hand against the fatherless,
When I saw my backers in the gate,[248]
Then let my shoulder fall from its setting,
And mine arm from its channel bone!
CCLXXI
I have never made gold my hope,
Nor said to the fine gold: "Thou art my trust;"
Never did I rejoice that my wealth was great,
And because mine hand had found much.
CCLXXII
Never did I gaze upon the sun, because it shone brightly,
Nor upon the moon floating in glory,
So that my heart was secretly enticed,
And I wafted kisses to them, putting my hand to my mouth.[249]
CCLXXIII
Never did I rejoice at the ruin of my hater,
Nor exult when misery found him out;
Neither have I suffered my throat to sin,
By wreaking a curse upon his soul.
CCLXXIV
Never had the guests of my tent to say:
"Oh, that we had our fill of his meat!"
I suffered not the stranger to lodge out of doors,
But I opened my gates to the traveller.