That which was strait is oftentimes made wide And straitened
that, which easy was whilere.
God orders all, according to His will; Gainsay Him not in what He
doth prepare,
But trust in happy fortune near at hand, Wherein thou shalt
forget the woes that were.
Then the slave-girl beat him till he fainted away and throwing
him a cake of bread and a cruse of brackish water, went away and
left him sad and lonely, bound in chains of iron, with the blood
streaming from his sides and far from those he loved. So he
called to mind his brother and his former high estate and
repeated the following verses, shedding floods of tears the
while:
How long wilt thou wage war on me, O Fate, and bear away My
brethren from me? Hold thy hand and spare awhile, I pray!
Is it not time, O thou whose heart is as the rock, that thou My
long estrangement and my dole shouldst pity and allay?
Ill hast thou wrought to those I love and made my foes exult With
all that thou hast wreaked on me of ruin and dismay.
Yea, for the pains he sees me brook of exile and desire And
loneliness, my foeman's heart is solaceful and gay.
Thou'rt not content with what is fallen on me of bitter dole, Of
loss of friends and swollen eyes, affliction and affray.
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