LAMENT XI

"Virtue is but a trifle!" Brutus said In his defeat; nor was he cozenèd. What man did his own goodness e'er advance Or piety preserve from evil chance? Some unknown foe confuses men's affairs; For good and bad alike it nothing cares. Where blows its breath, no man can flee away; Both false and righteous it hath power to stay. Yet still we vaunt us of our mighty mind In idle arrogance among our kind; And still we gaze on heaven and think we see The Lord and his all-holy mystery. Nay, human eyes are all too dull; light dreams Amuse and cheat us with what only seems. Ah, dost thou rob me, Grief, my safeguards spurning, Of both my darling and my trust in learning?