I of myself can
a true tale relate
my fortunes recount
how I, in days of toil
a time of hardship oft suffered
bitter breast-cares
have endured
proved in the ship
strange mishaps many.
The fell rolling of the waves
has me there oft drenched:
an anxious night-watch
at the vessel's prow
when on the cliffs it strikes
pierced with cold
were my feet
bound with frost
with cold bonds.
There cares sighed
hot round my heart
hunger tore me within
the sea-wolf's rage.
That the man knows not
to whom on land
all falls out most joyfully
how I miserable and sad
on the ice-cold sea
a winter passed
with exile traces
of dear kindred bereft
hung o'er with icicles
the hail in showers flew
where I heard nought
save the sea roaring
the ice-cold wave.
At times the swan's song
I made to me for pastime
the ganet's cry
and the "hu-ilpe's" note
for men's laughter
the mew singing
for mead-drinking
storms there the stone-cliffs beat
there them the starling answered
icy of wings.
Full oft the eagle screamed
dewy of wings
no hospitable kinsman
he a poor soul
might go
for he little believes
who has the joy of life
experienced in cities
misfortunes few
elate and wine-flushed
how I weary oft
in the ocean-way
must bide
night's shadow darkened
from the north it snowed
frost bound the land
hail fell on the earth
coldest of grains
therefore it oppresses now
my heart's thoughts
that I the deep streams
the salt wave's sport
myself shall prove
though my mind's desire exhorts me
at all times
my soul, to go
that I far hence
of strangers
the habitation seek;
for there is not so elate of mind
any man on earth
nor in his qualities so good
nor in youth so ardent
nor in his deeds so estimable
nor to him his Lord so benignant
that he never on his sea-voyage
fear entertains
as to what the Lord with him
will do.
He has to the harp no mind
nor to the receipt of rings
nor delight in woman
nor in the world joy
nor of aught else thinks
save of the rolling of the waves
but ever weariness has
he who on the deep ventures.
The groves increase with flowers
towns appear fair
the plains seem beautiful
the world hastens on
all these admonish
the prompt of mind
to go on journey
those who so think
on the flood-ways
far to depart.
So also the cuckoo exhorts
with mournful voice
the summer's warden sings
sorrow announces
bitter in its heart.
The man knows it not
the favoured mortal
what some endure
who their exile traces
furthest set;
for now my thought wanders
o'er my breast's recess
my spirit
with the sea-flood
over the whale's home
wanders wide
earth's regions
come again to me
eager and greedy
yells the lone bird
urges on the whale-way
nathless suddenly
over ocean's flood:
for to me more exciting are
the Lord's joys
than this dead life
transient in the land
I believe not
that earthly wealth
will stand for ever.
Ever either one
of three things
ere it take place
will be doubtful;
disease or age
or hostile sword
from the fated to departure
life will expel
therefore that to every man
of after-speaking
praise animating
last words is best
that he work
ere he must away
act on earth
against the hate of foes
by estimable deeds
against the devil
so that him the sons of men
may after praise
his fame thenceforth
and live with angels
for evermore
in the blessing of eternal life
joy with the good.
Days are passed away
all the pomps
of earth's kingdom
kings are not now
nor emperors
nor gold-givers
such as were of yore
when they most among themselves
glories performed
and in most lordly
power lived
fall'n is this splendour all
joys are passed away
the weaker remain
and this world hold
enjoy in toil.
Glory is humbled
the honours of earth
wax old and sere
as now every man
throughout mid-earth
age comes on him
his face waxes pale
hoary-locked he grieves
knows that his friends of old
sons of noble ones
are to earth committed
may not his body then
when life escapes him
nor sweets consume
nor pain feel
nor a hand move
nor with its mind think
though the grave will
strew with gold
a brother his brother's
heap for the dead
with various treasures
he will not that take with him.
May not to the soul
that is full of sins
gold be for help,
before God's terror,
when he ere hides it,
while he here lives.
Great is the dread of the Creator
for the mould shall them return:
he establish'd
the rugged depths,
earth's regions,
and heaven above.
Foolish is he who his Lord dreads not,
death comes to him unsolicited:
happy is he who humbly lives,
to him comes mercy from heaven;
the Creator his mind strengthens,
because he in his might believes.
A man shall govern with strong mind,
and that with firmness hold,
and certain towards men,
in its ways pure.
every man ought
moderation to preserve
towards his friend
and towards his foe
* * * * *
though he will him
of fire full,
* * * * *
or on the pile
burned,
one become his friend
Fate is hard,
the Creator mightier
than any man's thought
Let us consider
where we may have a home
and then think
how we may thither come,
and then also prepare ourselves,
that we may go thereto,
into the eternal
happiness
where life depends
on the Lord's love,
joy in heaven;
therefore be to the Holy thanks,
that he us hath honour'd
the Chief of glory
the Lord eternal
in all time.
Amen