“Lo! I am she who makes the wheel to turn; Lo! I am she who gives and takes away; Blamed idly, day by day, In all mine acts by you, ye humankind. For whoso smites his visage and doth mourn, What time he renders back my gifts to me. Learns then that I decree No state which mine own arrows may not find. Who clomb must fall:⁠—this bear ye well in mind, Nor say, because he fell, I did him wrong. Yet mine is a vain song: For truly ye may find out wisdom when King Arthur’s resting-place is found of men.