The Land Of Fë¡l

If all must suffer equally, and pay
In equal share for that sin wrought by Eve,
O Thou, if Thou wilt deign to answer, say:
Why are the poor tormented? why made grieve
The innocent? why are the free enslaved?
Why have the wicked peace tho' void of ruth?
Why are there none to pity, when, dismayed,
And sick with fear, the lamb bleats to the tooth
That tears him down? why is the cry unheard
Of lonely anguish? why, when the land of Fë¡l
Had loved Thee long and well, was she not spared
The ruin that hath stamped her under all
That mourn and die?