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 His pride will wax, but his wisdom never, Straight forward he fares in conceit.

Give praise to the day at evening, to a woman on her pyre, To a weapon which is tried, to a maid at wed lock, To ice when it is crossed, to ale that is drunk.

When the gale blows hew wood, in fair winds seek the water; Sport with maidens at dusk, for day's eyes are many; From the ship seek swiftness, from the shield protection, Cuts from the sword, from the maiden kisses.

By the fire drink ale, over ice go on skates; Buy a steed that is lean, and a sword when tarnished,