The Consolation of Philosophy

Who would be powerful, must

His own affections check,

Nor let foul reins of lust

Subdue his conquered neck.

For though the Indian land

Should tremble at thy beck,

And though thy dread command

Far Thule's isle obey,

Unless thou canst withstand

And boldly drive away

Black care and wretched moan,

Thy might is small or none.