By HMSVictory
All out no longer with god-like state,
And trouble deaf Tamriel with alien cries,
Look upon yourselves, and curse your fate,
Wishing you like to be rich in false hope,
Featured like men, like men without morals creased,
Desiring this god's art, and that machine's scope,
With what you most enjoy contended least;
Yet in these thoughts Nerevar almost despising,
Happily mortals think of you, - and then their hate,
Like to the gold of breaking day arising
From sullen earth, sings at Nirn's gate;
For your sweet love remembers such wealth brings,
That then they scorn to change their state with kings.
When you criticise the works of greater light,
And place good's merit in the eyes of scorn,
Upon your side, against themselves the mortals will fight,
And prove to be virtuous, through you is it sworn.
With evil's own weaknesses being best acquainted,
Upon your part I set down a story
Of their faults concealed, where you are much attained;
That you in losing them shall win much glory:
But by this they will gain too;
For bending all their loving thoughts on the three,
The injuries that they will do,
Doing your advantage, will thrice advantage we.
Such is my forced adore, to you do I belong,
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