The Consolation of Philosophy

Alas, how thy dull mind is headlong cast

In depths of woe, where, all her light once lost,

She doth to walk in utter darkness haste,

While cares grow great with earthly tempests tost.

He that through the opened heavens did freely run,

And used to travel the celestial ways,

Marking the rosy splendour of the sun,

And noting Cynthia's cold and watery rays;

He that did bravely comprehend in verse

The different spheres and wandering course of stars,

He that was wont the causes to rehearse

Why sounding winds do with the seas make wars,

What spirit moves the world's well-settled frame,

And why the sun, whom forth the east doth bring,

In western waves doth hide his falling flame,

Searching what power tempers the pleasing Spring

Which makes the earth her rosy flowers to bear,

Whose gift it is that Autumn's fruitful season

Should with full grapes flow in a plenteous year,

Telling of secret Nature every reason,

Now having lost the beauty of his mind

Lies with his neck compassed in ponderous chains;

His countenance with heavy weight declined,

Him to behold the sullen earth constrains.