Moved from their courses by the might of a man.
Who now is aware of wise Weland's bones,
In what barrow lying they litter the ground?
Where is the senator so mighty of Rome,
The bold champion of whom we chant,
Head of their army, he that the name
Amid the burghers, of Brutus bore?
Where is the wise one that wished for fame,
The people's shepherd, steadfast of purpose,
That was a sage in each thing several,
Keen and the cunning, Cato was called?
Many long days ago these men departed;
No man knows now where they be.
What is left of them but their fame alone?
Too slight is the glory of such teachers.
For they were worthy, were those heroes,
Of more in the world. But worse it is now,
When over the earth, in every quarter,
They and those like them are little spoken of,
And some not a few are clean forgotten,
And their fame cannot keep them longer
Known to all men, noble heroes.
Though you now deem, desire strongly,
That long in the land your life may last,
How ever the better can you be or seem?
For Death no man leaves, though long it seem,
His life-days told, if the Lord it allows.
But what profit does a mortal possess
In this world's glory, if he be gripped
By death everlasting after this life?
