The Consolation of Philosophy · Boethius
All men are of one kindred stock, though scattered far and wide;
For one is Father of us all--one doth for all provide.
He gave the sun his golden beams, the moon her silver horn;
He set mankind upon the earth, as stars the heavens adorn.
He shut a soul--a heaven-born soul--within the body's frame;
The noble origin he gave each mortal wight may claim.
Why boast ye, then, so loud of race and high ancestral line?
If ye behold your being's source, and God's supreme design,
None is degenerate, none base, unless by taint of sin
And cherished vice he foully stain his heavenly origin.
· · ·
End of part 43 of 80
Continue readingBook III: Prose VII
Starvard