“It is wonderful to tell how mighty God with his generous thought bestows on mankind wisdom, land and rank.  He has dominion over all things. He gives him in his land the joys of domain, the stronghold of men to keep.  He puts the parts of the world, a wide kingdom, in such subjection to him that he cannot  in his folly conceive an end to that.  He lives in plenty; nothing afflicts him, neither sickness nor age; nor does sorrow darken his mind, nor does strife anywhere show forth sword-hatred, but all the world meets his desire.

He knows nothing worse till within him his pride grows and springs up.  Then the guardian slumbers, the keeper of the soul – the sleep is too heavy – pressed round with troubles; the murderer very near who shoots maliciously from his bow.  Then he is stricken in the breast under the helmet by a sharp shaft – he knows not how to guard himself – by the crafty evil commands of the ill spirit. Care not for pride.

Now the repute of thy might endures for a space; straightway again shall age, or edge of the sword, part thee from thy strength, or the embrace of fire, or the surge of the flood, or the grip of the blade, or the flight of the spear, or hateful old age, or the gleam of eyes shall pass away and be darkened; on a sudden it shall come to pass that death shall vanquish thee, noble warrior.”