In the soul of a sailor no songs burst forth, 55 No familiar refrains. Fresh is his care Who sends his soul o'er the sea full oft, Over the welling waves his wearied heart. Hence I may not marvel, when I am mindful of life, That my sorrowing soul grows sick and dark, 60 When I look at the lives of lords and earls, How they are suddenly snatched from the seats of their power, In their princely pride. So passes this world, And droops and dies each day and hour; And no man is sage who knows not his share 65 Of winter in the world. The wise man is patient, Not too hot in his heart, nor too hasty in words, Nor too weak in war, nor unwise in his rashness, Nor too forward nor fain, nor fearful of death, Nor too eager and arrogant till he equal his boasting. 70 The wise man will wait with his words of boasting Till, restraining his thoughts, he thoroughly knows Where his vain words of vaunting eventually will lead him. The sage man perceives how sorrowful it is When all the wealth of the world lies wasted and scattered. 75 So now over the earth in every land Stormed on by winds the walls are standing Rimy with hoar-frost, and the roofs of the houses; The wine-halls are wasted; far away are the rulers, Deprived of their pleasure. All the proud ones have fallen, 80 The warriors by the wall: some war has borne off, In its bloody embrace; some birds have carried Over the high seas; to some the hoar wolf Has dealt their death; some with dreary faces By earls have been exiled in earth-caves to dwell: 85 So has wasted this world through the wisdom of God, Till the proud one's pleasure has perished utterly, And the old work of the giants stands worthless and joyless. He who the waste of this wall-stead wisely considers, And looks down deep at the darkness of life, 90 Mournful in mind, remembers of old Much struggle and spoil and speaks these words: 'Where are the horses? Where are the heroes? Where are the high treasure-givers? Where are the proud pleasure-seekers? Where are the palace and its joys? Alas the bright wine-cup! Alas the burnie-warriors! 95 Alas the prince's pride! How passes the time Under the shadow of night as it never had been! Over the trusty troop now towers full high A wall adorned with wondrous dragons. The strength of the spear has destroyed the earls, 100 War-greedy weapons, Wyrd inexorable; And the storms strike down on the stony cliffs; The snows descend and seize all the earth In the dread of winter; then darkness comes