Lament XI

«Virtue is but a trifle!» Brutus¹ said

In his defeat; nor was he cozenèd.

What man did his own goodness e’er advance

Or piety preserve from evil chance?

Some unknown foe confuses men’s affairs;

For good and bad alike it nothing cares.

Where blows its breath, no man can flee away;

Both false and righteous it hath power to stay.

Yet still we vaunt us of our mighty mind

In idle arrogance among our kind;

And still we gaze on heaven and think we see

The Lord and his all-holy mystery.

Nay, human eyes are all too dull; light dreams

Amuse and cheat us with what only seems.

Ah, dost thou rob me, Grief, my safeguards spurning,

Of both my darling and my trust in learning?

Przypisy:

1. Marcus Junius Brutus (85 BC–42 BC) — Roman polititian, one of the assassinators of Julius Caesar, committed suicide after losing battle of Philippi. [przypis edytorski]