The world made beautiful, when the blessed gem
Illumines the land, the largest of stars
In the circle of the seas sends forth its rays.
120 Soon as the sun over the salt streams;
Rises in glory, then the gray-feathered bird
Blithely rises from the beam where he rested;
Fleet-winged he fareth and flieth on high;
Singing and caroling he soareth to heaven.
125 Fair is the famous fowl in his bearing
With joy in his breast, in bliss exulting;
He warbles his song more wondrously sweet
And choicer of note than ever child of man
Heard beneath the heavens since the High King,
130 The worker of wonders, the world established,
Heaven and earth. His hymn is more beautiful
And fairer by far than all forms of song-craft;
Its singing surpasseth the sweetest of music.
To the song can compare not the sound of trumpet,
135 Nor of horn; nor of harp, nor of heroes' voices
On all the earth, nor of organ's sound,
Nor singing song nor swan's fair feathers,
Nor of any good thing that God created
As a joy to men in this mournful world!
140 Thus he singeth and carolleth crowned with joy,
Until the bright sun in a southern sky
Sinks to its setting; then silent he is
And listeneth and boweth and bendeth his head,
Sage in his thoughts, and thrice he shaketh
145 His feathers for flight; the fowl is hushed.
Twelve equal times he telleth the hours
Of day and night. 'Tis ordained in this way,
And willed that the dweller of the woods should have joy,
Pleasure in that plain and its peaceful bliss,
150 Taste delights and life and the land's enjoyments,
Till he waiteth a thousand winters of life,
The aged warden of the ancient wood.
Then the gray-feathered fowl in the fullness of years
Is grievously stricken. From the green earth he fleeth,
155 The favorite of birds, from the flowering land,
And beareth his flight to a far-off realm,
To a distant domain where dwelleth no man,
As his native land. Then the noble fowl
Becometh ruler over the race of birds,
160 Distinguished in their tribe, and for a time he dwelleth
With them in the waste. Then