boethius - Популярные cтихи, рассказы и фанфики

Though countless as the grains of
That roll at Eurus' loud command;
Though countless as the lamps of
That glad us with vicarious light;

Wouldst thou to some steadfast seat,
Out of Fortune's power retreat
Wouldst thou, when fierce Eurus blows,
Calmly rest in safe repose