The Consolation of Philosophy · Boethius
THE TRUE LIGHT.
Hither come, all ye whose minds Lust with rosy fetters binds-- Lust to bondage hard compelling Th' earthy souls that are his dwelling-- Here shall be your labour's close; Here your haven of repose. Come, to your one refuge press; Wide it stands to all distress! Not the glint of yellow gold Down bright Hermus' current rolled; Not the Tagus' precious sands, Nor in far-off scorching lands All the radiant gems that hide Under Indus' storied tide-- Emerald green and glistering white-- Can illume our feeble sight; But they rather leave the mind In its native darkness blind. For the fairest beams they shed In earth's lowest depths were fed; But the splendour that supplies Strength and vigour to the skies, And the universe controls, Shunneth dark and ruined souls. He who once hath seen _this_ light Will not call the sunbeam bright.
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.