The Song of Youth
In the beginning of the new years, the end of the gloomy winters of the showers, when the sun is latest in rising and the snow falls thickest, every child, every poor tender babe, betakes itself to toil and complaint, for so sharp is the air and the cold that they may not be removed from their nest.
In the beginning of spring comes a wet stormy February that reduces the condition of every creature; comes lightning, comes thunder after it, comes tempest, comes frost that is not weak. Every child, every poor tender babe, who cannot tell about their plight, is without power of motion, without speed, without strength, until the whole winter is spent.
Dry March, manuring the trees, draining every burn and waterfall; every plant in garden or wood is without sap or foliage or fruit. A cold raw dry spell without warmth huddles every brood that comes to light; every creature that was ailing during March narrowly escapes death or succumbs to it.
The sunny, fresh, grassy month of good fortune in which every plant puts forth its bloom above: how pleasant to rear every herb, fresh and beautiful under bud and dew. Every piteous wretch who was ailing during March grows mightily and bravely, pure and fresh, with power of motion and walking and speech, after having left every ill and malaise behind.
Dewy Beltane of milk-pails and stoups and large brim-full wooden measures, heavy and fruitful with eggs and fowl, with milk and meat and white curds. Lads grow as sportive as deer, frolicking and leaping and swimming, without heaviness or languor or weariness, steadily hastening to maturity and growth.
The cloudy, sultry, warm month that causes stretching and growth in corn: lads grow wondrous big with many a boast and deed; without control or instruction of their sense, part of their nature as wild as a horse, believing that there is not and was not under the sun what can equal themselves in degree of strength.
Art thou the man who harboured many boasts? Why didst thou not quietly look round on every side? Is it to be wealthier than many (that thou dost boast), or to be pleasing to the eye? This house of clay in which thou dost dwell, the casing of worms that will moulder in the dust — if 'twas a bad life thou didst lead in the flesh, anguish will yet be thy lot therefor.
How will it fare with the body that harboured pride when it goes into the close wooden coffin? How will it fare with the tongue that harboured deceit, or the heart that devised malice, or the windows that tempted the desires, that kindled unrest in thy mind from the beginning? — ugly is the pit in which they were in thy head after being filled up with mud and earth.
After being filled up with mud and earth in the worthless carcase of small consequence; and the little thou didst take down with thee, it will be taken from thee altogether in the pit; Where the face of most comely aspect? Where thine eyes, thy teeth, thy hair? Where the fingers in the hollows of the hands that used to surmount every difficulty that came thy way?
When the calm warm summer is over, pride and arrogance are left behind: worms eat and wither you which they call jealousy and envy: since enough is not as good as a feast, and as much as fills the belly is not enough, Solomon and Job did not possess as much wealth as would together please thine eye.
A warrior intrepid is death, to whom rich and poor are alike, when he casts the dart that does not stray as sure of aim as the musket's shot; he looks not to rank or nobility, but, pride and arrogance subdued, a sure fate for Adam's seed from the beginning is natural death and a reckoning in its train.
In the beginning of spring comes a wet stormy February that reduces the condition of every creature; comes lightning, comes thunder after it, comes tempest, comes frost that is not weak. Every child, every poor tender babe, who cannot tell about their plight, is without power of motion, without speed, without strength, until the whole winter is spent.
Dry March, manuring the trees, draining every burn and waterfall; every plant in garden or wood is without sap or foliage or fruit. A cold raw dry spell without warmth huddles every brood that comes to light; every creature that was ailing during March narrowly escapes death or succumbs to it.
The sunny, fresh, grassy month of good fortune in which every plant puts forth its bloom above: how pleasant to rear every herb, fresh and beautiful under bud and dew. Every piteous wretch who was ailing during March grows mightily and bravely, pure and fresh, with power of motion and walking and speech, after having left every ill and malaise behind.
Dewy Beltane of milk-pails and stoups and large brim-full wooden measures, heavy and fruitful with eggs and fowl, with milk and meat and white curds. Lads grow as sportive as deer, frolicking and leaping and swimming, without heaviness or languor or weariness, steadily hastening to maturity and growth.
The cloudy, sultry, warm month that causes stretching and growth in corn: lads grow wondrous big with many a boast and deed; without control or instruction of their sense, part of their nature as wild as a horse, believing that there is not and was not under the sun what can equal themselves in degree of strength.
Art thou the man who harboured many boasts? Why didst thou not quietly look round on every side? Is it to be wealthier than many (that thou dost boast), or to be pleasing to the eye? This house of clay in which thou dost dwell, the casing of worms that will moulder in the dust — if 'twas a bad life thou didst lead in the flesh, anguish will yet be thy lot therefor.
How will it fare with the body that harboured pride when it goes into the close wooden coffin? How will it fare with the tongue that harboured deceit, or the heart that devised malice, or the windows that tempted the desires, that kindled unrest in thy mind from the beginning? — ugly is the pit in which they were in thy head after being filled up with mud and earth.
After being filled up with mud and earth in the worthless carcase of small consequence; and the little thou didst take down with thee, it will be taken from thee altogether in the pit; Where the face of most comely aspect? Where thine eyes, thy teeth, thy hair? Where the fingers in the hollows of the hands that used to surmount every difficulty that came thy way?
When the calm warm summer is over, pride and arrogance are left behind: worms eat and wither you which they call jealousy and envy: since enough is not as good as a feast, and as much as fills the belly is not enough, Solomon and Job did not possess as much wealth as would together please thine eye.
A warrior intrepid is death, to whom rich and poor are alike, when he casts the dart that does not stray as sure of aim as the musket's shot; he looks not to rank or nobility, but, pride and arrogance subdued, a sure fate for Adam's seed from the beginning is natural death and a reckoning in its train.
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