A son is better Though he be late born, After a man’s death; Seldom memorial stones Stand near the road Unless kinsman raise Them after kinsman. Two are of one host The tongue is the head’s bane; Under every fur-coat I expect a hand.[313] He who trusts to his knapsack Is glad when night comes; The ship’s corners are small; The autumn night is changeable; There are many weathers In five days[314] And more in a month. He who nothing knows Knows not this; Many are made fools by wealth; One man is wealthy, And another poor; Blame not a man for that. Cattle die, Kinsmen die, One’s self dies too; But the fame Never dies Of him who gets a good name. Cattle die, Kinsmen die, We ourselves die; I know one thing That never dies, The doom over every dead man.[315] Full stocked folds I saw at the sons of Fitjung; Now they carry beggars’ staffs; Wealth is Like the twinkling of an eye The most unstable of friends. An unwise man If he gets Wealth or a woman’s love Grows in pride, But never in wits; He goes on further in his conceit. It will be found When thou askest about The god-born runes Which the high powers made, And the all wise marked, Then it is best that he be silent. A day should be praised at night, A woman when she is burnt, A sword when it is tried, A maiden when she is married, Ice when crossed, Ale when drank. In a gale should trees be cut, In a breeze row out at sea, In the dark to a maiden talk, Many are the eyes of day, A ship is made for sailing, A shield for sheltering, A sword for striking, A maiden for kisses. At the fire shalt thou drink ale And glide on the ice, Buy a lean horse, And a rusty sword, Fatten (thy) horse at home, And (thy) dog at (thy) farm. The words of a maiden Or the talk of a woman Should no man trust; For their hearts were shaped On a whirling wheel, And fickleness laid in their breasts.