His share of winters. A wise man holds out;
He is not too hot-hearted, nor too hasty in speech,
Nor too weak a warrior, not wanting in fore-thought,
Nor too greedy of goods, nor too glad, nor too mild,
Nor ever too eager to boast, ere he knows all.
A man should forbear boastmaking
Until his fierce mind fully knows
Which way his spleen shall expend itself.
A wise man may grasp how ghastly it shall be
When all this world's wealth standeth waste,
Even as now, in many places, over the earth
Walls stand, wind-beaten,
Hung with hoar-frost; ruined habitations.
The wine-halls crumble; their wielders lie
Bereft of bliss, the band all fallen
Proud by the wall. War took off some,
Carried them on their course hence; one a bird bore
Over the high sea; one the hoar wolf
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