Meter 28

What man that learning on earth lacketh
Doth marvel not at the moving clouds,
The swift heavens, the stars’ wheeling,
How never ceasing they spin around

The mass of earth ? Which of mankind
No wonder showeth at these shining bodies,

How that some of them a lesser space
Of course revolve, and others run
In longer circle? One of these lights
Is by world-men the Waggon Shafts called.
This a shorter course and journey keepeth,
A smaller circle than other stars,
For it turneth about the heavenly axle
At the northern end, nigh revolving.
On this same axle all is circling,
The spacious heavens are swiftly speeding,
Southward rushing, swift, untiring.

What earthly mortal doth not marvel,
Save the wise ones who wist before,
That many stars a motion wider
Have in the heavens, some, however,
Run more straitly round the axle’s end,
And move more widely when round its middle
They urge their race ? One of these orbs
Is Saturn called ; in some thirty winters
He girdleth round this globe of earth.
Boötes also brightly shineth,

Another star that to his station
In years as many moveth round,
E’en to the place from which he parted.
What mortal is there that marvelleth not
How that some stars sink in ocean,
Under the sea-waves, as men do suppose ?
Some also deem that the sun doth so;
But none the less false is this their fancy,
For neither at even nor in early morning
Is he nearer the ocean than at high noon.
Yet do men deem that he diveth to ocean,
Into the sea, when he sinketh to setting.
Who in the world wondereth not
At the full moon, when in a moment

She is robbed of her beauty beneath the clouds,
With darkness covered ? What mortal cannot
See with wonder the ways of all stars,
Why in bright weather they beam not forth
Before the sun, when such is their custom
In the middle of night before the moon,
When clear is heaven ? How many a man,
At all such things sorely wond’reth,
But marvelleth not that men and beasts,
Every creature, keep up anger
Great and useless, each against other,
Never ceasing ? It is a strange thing
That men do not marvel how oft ’mid the clouds
The thunder soundeth, then for a space
Lieth silent ; and likewise how
Waves and sea-shore are warring ever,
The wind and billows. Who wondereth at this,
Or at another thing also, why ice is able
To come from water? When the sun shineth
Hot in splendour, soon it hasteneth,
The wondrous ice-pool, once more to its kind,
Even to water. No wonder seemeth
To any of mortals what he may see
Day by day; but the doited people
What they see but seldom sooner marvel,
Though to the minds of men of wisdom
It seem much less matter of wonder.
To unsteadfast men it ever seemeth
No part of the ancient early creation,
What they see seldom ; but still they ween,
World-men hold that by chance it happeneth,
Newly befalleth, if to any before
It hath not appeared ; a pity ’tis so!
But if any of them ever becometh
So lusting for knowledge that he beginneth to learn
Wise ways many, and the Warden of Life
From his mind cleareth the mountain of folly
That hath buried it and abode with it long,

Then I know well that he will not marvel
At many a thing that now to mankind
A sign and a wonder everywhere seemeth.