The Consolation of Philosophy

Alas, how ignorance makes wretches stray

Out of the way!

You from green trees expect no golden mines

Nor pearls from vines,

Nor use you on mountains to lay your net

Fishes to get,

Nor, if the pleasant sport of hunting please,

Run you to seas.

Men will be skilful in the hidden caves

Of the ocean waves,

And in what coasts the orient pearls are bred,

Or purple red,

Also, what different sorts of fishes store

Each several shore.

But when they come their chiefest good to find,

Then are they blind,

And search for that under the earth, which lies

Above the skies.

How should I curse these fools? Let thirst them hold

Of fame and gold,

That, having got false goods with pain, they learn

True to discern.