bewailing fortune,
Is not possessed of rede and understanding,
And is no ornament to any throne.
The simple deprivation of all wealth
Will ruin him in heart and soul and brain;
He will take pride in want and evil nature,
And hold his head up high in his unwisdom,
His lack of goods, of knowledge, rede, achievement,
Of Faith and of all thankfulness to God.
May both your nights and days be prosperous,
The marrow of your foemen's lives plucked out.”
The chiefs applauded and saluted him
As earth's great king. When heaven had turned nine
years
Above his head his face that had resembled
Pomegranate-bloom became like yellow roses,
The head that wore the crown was sick to death;
He died without a son beside his couch.