To every mortal more welcome by far
Is gentle weather, when just before
Storms have assailed him, and the stiff wind
Out of the north-east. No man would reckon
Daylight a blessing if the dark night
Had not for mortals mustered terrors.
So of earth-dwellers to each it seems
That blessedness true is ever the better,
More pleasant by far, the more he of woe,
Of cruel hardships, here endures.
So you the sooner may in your soul
The truest of blessings trace more clearly,
And to their source soonest arrive,
If first and foremost forth from your breast,
Root and branch, you upwrench
Happiness false, even as the farmer
From his field plucks ill weeds a plenty.
Then, I warrant you, you will clearly
Forthwith recognize real blessings,
And you will never have heed for anything else,
When all plainly you do perceive them.
XIII
In song will I again send forth the tidings,
How the Almighty, all things' Ruler,
With bridle urges, bends at will
His creatures with might and due measure,
Marvellous well makes them hold.
The Wielder of heaven has welded
