For his evil fortune; though all be his,
This world of ours, wherever begirdled
By ocean-waters, to him only given,
As far away as in the west
Outermost lies an isle in ocean,
Where never is night known in summer,
Nor is the day in winter divided,
Into times parted, Tile (Thule) men call it--
Though that a man be sole master
Of all this island, and from thence onward
Even to the Indies out in the east
Yes, though all this be his own to govern,
How is his might any the more,
If of himself control he has not,
Nor of his thoughts, nor thoroughly strive
Well to beware in word and in deed
Of all the sins of which we were speaking?
XVII
All earth-dwellers one origin had,
All men of the land, one like beginning;
From one pair only all proceeded,
From a man and woman, within the world
And to this day even all men alike,
The base and the high ones, are born in the world.
Nor is that a marvel, for all men know
That there is one God of all world-creatures,
Lord of mankind, Father and Maker.
