85 In that wood there dwelleth a wondrous bird, Fearless in flight, the Phoenix its name. Lonely it liveth its life in this place, Doughty of soul; death never seeks him In that well-loved wood while the world shall endure. 90 He is said to watch the sun on his way And to go to meet God's bright candle, That gleaming gem, and gladly to note When rises in radiance the most royal of stars Up from the east over the ocean's waves, 95 The famous work of the Father, fair with adornments, The bright sign of God. Buried are the stars, Wandering 'neath the waters to the western realms; They grow dim at dawn, and the dark night Creepeth wanly away. Then on wings of strength, 100 Proud on his pinions, he placeth his gaze Eagerly on the streams, and stares over the water Where the gleam of heaven gliding shall come O'er the broad ocean from the bright east. So the wondrous bird at the water's spring 105 Bideth in beauty, in the brimming streams. Twelve times there the triumphant bird Bathes in the brook ere the beacon appears, The candle of heaven, and the cold stream Of the joy-inspiring springs he tasteth 110 From the icy burn at every bath. Then after his sport in the springs at dawn, Filled full of pride he flies to a tree Where most easily he may in the eastern realm Behold the journey, when the jewel of heaven 115 Over the shimmering sea, the shining light, Gleameth in glory. Garnished is the land, The world made beautiful, when the blessed gem Illumines the land, the largest of stars In the circle of the seas sends forth its rays. 120 Soon as the sun over the salt streams; Rises in glory, then the gray-feathered bird Blithely rises from the beam where he rested; Fleet-winged he fareth and flieth on high; Singing and caroling he soareth to heaven. 125 Fair is the famous fowl in his bearing With joy in his breast, in bliss exulting; He warbles his song more wondrously sweet And choicer of note than ever child of man Heard beneath the heavens since the High King, 130 The worker of wonders, the world established, Heaven and earth. His hymn is more beautiful And fairer by far than all forms of song-craft; Its singing surpasseth the sweetest of music. To the song can compare not the sound of trumpet, 135 Nor of horn; nor of harp, nor of heroes' voices On all the earth, nor of organ's sound, Nor singing song nor swan's fair feathers, Nor of any good thing that God created As a joy to men in this mournful world!