His lord, a savage bird of prey, draws nigh;
Relentless comes, and, saying “Here am I!”
Seizes what little he may chance possess.
Nothing avails the vassal’s pleading cry,
For to the poor all things are bitterness.
Pity the wretched jester in your halls!
Think on the fisher when the black waves curl
Their frothing tongues, and crackling lightning falls
On his frail boat! Pity the blue-eyed girl,
Lowly and dreaming, as her young hands whirl