GetPassage urn:cts:latinLit:phi0893.phi001.perseus-eng2:1.34.1-1.34.16 urn:cts:latinLit:phi0893.phi001.perseus-eng2:1.34.1-1.34.16

My prayers were scant, my offerings few,While witless wisdom fool'd my mind;But now I trim my sails anew,And trace the course I left behind.For lo! the sire of heaven on high,By whose fierce bolts the clouds are riven,Today through an unclouded skyHis thundering steeds and car has driven.E'en now dull earth and wandering floods,And Atlas' limitary range,And Styx, and Taenarus' dark abodesAre reeling. He can lowliest changeAnd loftiest; bring the mighty downAnd lift the weak; with whirring flightComes Fortune, plucks the monarch's crown,And decks therewith some meaner wight.