Stanza 56

Original Old Norse:

Meðalsnotr

skyli manna hverr

æva til snotr sé

ørlög sín

viti engi fyrir

þeim er sorgalausastr sefi

Auden & Taylor:

It is best for man to be middle-wise, 

Not over cunning and clever:

No man is able to know his future, 

So let him sleep in peace.

Bellows:

A measure of wisdom | each man shall have,

But never too much let him know;

Let no man the fate | before him see,

For so is he freest from sorrow.

Bray:

Wise in measure should each man be, 

but ne'er let him wax too wise:

who looks not forward to learn his fate

unburdened heart will bear.

Chisholm:

Middle wise should each man be

and not over wise.

He who knows not his orlog

may sleep untroubled.

Hollander:

Middling wise every man should be:

beware of being too wise;

his fate let no one beforehand know

who would keep his heart from care.

Terry:

Moderately wise a man should be --

don't wish for too much wisdom;

if you can't see far into the future,

you can live free from care.

Thorpe:

Moderately wise

should each one be,

but never over-wise.

His destiny let know

no man beforehand;

his mind will be freest from care.

Middling-wise should each man be; never get too wise. No one should know his destiny before; he is most free from sorrow in his mind.

The chief reason for that sorrow perhaps is seeing the end of things, especially one's own life. The knowledge of one's own mortality is seldom a reason to cheer. Even to know a glorious career is to glimpse also its end. The sobering effect of the far-seeing comes from what lies on the horizon, inevitable and irrevocable. While some may look towards the ending with glee and anticipation, most do not. What do we leave unfinished? What do we leave behind? Even with years of notice, we humans feel it too short a time to do all we wish. And besides.. who wants to be reminded of their own mortality, day after day?

Stanza 55

Original Old Norse:

Meðalsnotr

skyli manna hverr

æva til snotr sé

því at snotrs manns hjarta

verðr sjaldan glatt,

ef sá er alsnotr er á

Auden & Taylor:

It is best for man to be middle-wise,

Not over cunning and clever:

The fairest life is led by those 

Who are deft at all they do.

Bellows:

A measure of wisdom | each man shall have,

But never too much let him know;

For the wise man's heart | is seldom happy,

If wisdom too great he has won.

Bray:

Wise in measure should each man be; 

but let him not wax too wise;

seldom a heart will sing with joy 

if the owner be all too wise.

Chisholm:

Middle wise should each man be

and not over-wise.

A wise man’s heart is seldom glad

when he has got himself great wisdom.

Hollander:

Middling wise every man should be:

beware of being too wise;

for wise man's heart is happy seldom,

if too great the wisdom he won.

Terry:

Moderately wise a man should be --

don't wish for too much wisdom;

a man's heart is seldom happy

if he is truly wise.

Thorpe:

Moderately wise

should each one be,

but never over-wise;

for a wise man’s heart

is seldom glad,

if he is all-wise who owns it.

If we know everything there is to know, what wonders are left in this world?
We all know "that guy" who knows EVERYTHING on EVERYTHING, and has no issue telling you that you are wrong, or over-explaining things. The ones who love to flaunt their knowledge of all things. How happy are those people? I immediately think of the stage illusionists. David Copperfield (is he even still a thing?), Sigfried and Roy, Chris Angel, David Blaine, Penn & Teller.. the greats who mystify and entertain people all across the globe. How cool are their tricks once you see behind the curtain, and figure out the strings, pulleys, mirrors?

Stanza 54

Original Old Norse:

Meðalsnotr

skyli manna hverr

æva til snotr sé

þeim er fyrða

fegrst at lifa

er vel mart vitut

Auden & Taylor:

It is best for man to be middle-wise, 

Not over cunning and clever:

The learned man whose lore is deep 

Is seldom happy at heart.

Bellows:

A measure of wisdom | each man shall have,

But never too much let him know;

The fairest lives | do those men live

Whose wisdom wide has grown.

Bray:

Wise in measure let each man be;

but let him not wax too wise; 

for never the happiest of men is he

who knows much of many things.

Chisholm:

Middle wise should each man be

and not over wise.

The fairest life is had

by the one who knows many things well.

Hollander:

Middling wise every man should be:

beware of being too wise;

happiest in life most likely he

who knows not more than is needful.

Terry:

Moderately wise a man should be --

don't wish for too much wisdom;

the men who live the fairest lives

know not too much.

Thorpe:

Moderately wise

should each one be,

but never over-wise:

of those men

the lives are fairest,

who know much well.

It's awfully cold and lonely at the top of the organization, the top of the ladder. More so at the top of Mount Noos (mind). To be at the top means to have your head in the clouds and to know the future, but be unable to shape it, and that's where the loneliness comes from. All throughout history, in every culture, you see the wise-man, the shaman, the monk, those who know soo much more than the average layman. They are always on their own, living deep in the forest/woods/moutnains, alone in their knowledge. Read the melancholic writings of Philip K Dick and other prophets to see this misery incarnate: they are not especially cheerful people. They tend more towards the 'darker' the 'melancholic'. The anti-pode of this (of dwelling on the top of Mount Noos) is living on the Plains of Phusis (physical), living in the 'now', 'the present', 'living for the moment'. The people who live on the Plains of Phusis are happy, but dumb. Hence the stanza says: 'it is most pleasant to live when they don't know a great many things.'

Stanza 53

Original Old Norse:

Lítilla sanda

lítilla sæva

lítil eru geð guma

því at allir menn

urðut jafnspakir

hálf er öld hvar

Auden & Taylor:

Little a sand-grain, little a dew drop, 

Little the minds of men:

All men are not equal in wisdom, 

The half-wise are everywhere

Bellows:

A little sand | has a little sea,

And small are the minds of men;

Though all men are not | equal in wisdom,

Yet half-wise only are all.

Bray:

Little the sand if little the seas, 

little are minds of men, 

for ne'er in the world were all equally wise, 

'tis shared by the fools and the sage.

Chisholm:

A small lake has a little sand.

The minds of men are small

and not all men are equally wise.

No man is whole.

Hollander:

A little lake hath but little sand:

but small the mind of man;

not all men are equally wise,

each wight wanteth somewhat.

Terry:

There are little shores and little seas

and men with little sense;

all are not equal in wisdom --

no lack of those lacking wit.

Thorpe:

Little are the sandgrains,

little the wits,

little the minds of (some) men;

for all men

are not wise alike:

men are everywhere by halves.

Jackson Crawford translates this stanza as "A small ocean has small beaches, and small brains have damned little to give. But the world takes all types."

To make the world work, we need all sorts of people with all different levels of intellegence. If we were populated by a world of idiots, humanity would be doomed. If we had a world of brilliant thinkers, our infrastructure would fall. We need the lower intellegence folks to do the menial work. I know this sounds bad, but really.. do you want to be the one flipping burgers or cleaning the toilets? We need the higher intellegence people to work the numbers, theories, abstracts. Do you want to be the one trying to decypher The ontinuum Hypothesis? It states that the set of real numbers has minimal possible cardinality which is greater than the cardinality of the set of integers.

Stanza 52

Original Old Norse:

Mikit eitt

skala manni gefa

opt kaupir sér í lítlu lof

með hálfum hleifi

ok með höllu keri

fekk ek mér félaga

Auden & Taylor:

A kind word need not cost much,

The price of praise can be cheap:

With half a loaf and an empty cup

I found myself a friend,

Bellows:

No great thing needs | a man to give,

Oft little will purchase praise;

With half a loaf | and a half-filled cup

A friend full fast I made.

Bray:

Not great things alone must one give to another, 

praise oft is earned for nought;

with half a loaf and a tilted bowl 

I have found me many a friend.

Chisholm:

Give not great gifts.

You can win praise with little.

Half a loaf and half a cup

won me fellowship.

Hollander:

Not great thigns needs give to a man:

bringeth thanks oft a little thing.

with half a loaf and a half-drained cup

I won me oft worthy friend.

Terry:

You don't have to give large gifts always,

small things often suffice;

half a loaf and a lifted goblet

have found me friends.

Thorpe:

Something great

is not (always) to be given,

praise is often for a trifle bought.

With half a loaf

and a tilted vessel

I got myself a comrade.

This is a lesson I am currently trying to teach my son. Davi is constantly trying to buy peoples love with big gifts and (relatively) expensive things. He is 11.

We try to impress people and give big gifts, when all to often this is very much not needed. "Half a loaf of bread and an offered glass". At my house, when we have guests over it is typically for a DnD game or a BBQ. If you want to show you are my friend bring a bottle of drink (whiskey for me, gin for the wife, or soda for the kids), bring hot dog buns, bring a side salad.. stand with me and talk while I tend the fire for the charring of the meats.

Personally, receiving big gifts is difficult for me. It makes me uncomfortable.

Stanza 51

Original Old Norse:

Eldi heitari

brinn með illum vinum

friðr fimm daga,

en þá sloknar

es hinn sétti kømr

ok versnar allr vinskapr

Auden & Taylor:

Hotter than fire among false hearts burns 

Friendship for five days, 

But suddenly slackens when the sixth dawns:

Feeble their friendship then.

Bellows:

Hotter than fire | between false friends

Does friendship five days burn;

When the sixth day comes | the fire cools,

And ended is all the love.

Bray:

Fiercer than fire among ill friends 

for five days love will burn; 

bun anon 'tis quenched, when the sixth day comes, 

and all friendship soon is spoiled.

Chisholm:

Hotter than fire friendship burns

for five days between false friends.

But it slackens on the sixth

and the friendship goes awry.

Hollander:

Than fire hotter for five days burneth

love between friends that are false;

it dieth down when dawneth the sixth,

then all the sweetness turns sour.

Terry:

Hotter than fire friendship flames

five days among false friends;

then it dies down when the sixth day comes,

and all love is lost.

Thorpe:

Hotter than fire

love for five days burns

between false friends;

but is quenched 

when the sixth day comes,

and friendship is all impaired.

"Puppy Love". "Honeymoon Period". We all know these terms. Tat time when those who strike up an intense relationship, claim to be BEST friends.. only to have it peter out and die shortly thereafter.

Evans: Hotter than fire among false friends affection burns five days, but then it slakes when the sixth one comes, and all friendship evaporates.
The length of time is typical in Old Norwegian laws, Evans tells us, as it was the span of a week in the pre-Christian era. Affection lasts but a short while among those who aren't in it for the long haul, but it ends at the first test or the mere expiration of a week. Old friends are the truest friends, the verses suggest.

Stanza 50

Original Old Norse:

Hrørnar þöll

sú er stendr þorpi á

hlýrat henni börkr né barr

svá er maðr 

sá er mangi ann

hvat skal hann lengi lifa?

Auden & Taylor:

The young fir that falls and rots 

Having neither needles nor bark, 

So is the fate of the friendless man:

Why should he live long?

Bellows:

On the hillside drear | the fir-tree dies,

All bootless its needles and bark;

It is like a man | whom no one loves,--

Why should his life be long?

Bray:

The pine tree wastes which is perched on the hill, 

nor bark nor needles shelter it; 

such is the man whom none doth love; 

for what should he longer live?

Chisholm:

The young fir tree dies that stands

sheltered by neither bark nor needle in the field

Such is a man whom none love.

Why should such a man live longer?

Hollander:

The fir tree dies in the field that stands:

shields it nor bark nor bast;

thus eke the man who by all is shunned

why should he linger in life?

Terry:

The pine tree withers in an open place,

neither bark nor needles save it.

How shall a man hated by everyone

live for very long?

Thorpe:

A tree withers 

that on a hill-top stands;

protects it neither bark nor leaves:

such is the man

whom no one favours:

why should he live long?

There is an iconic image of a lone tree on top of the hill out on the plains. The tree is never a majestic, grand, old tree.. it is always the Charlie Brown's Christmas type of tree. Withered, stunted, spindly. We humans are the same. The man alone, the outcast.. they are never what we would consider a "well adjusted" member of society. What use is their life? To me, this is further attesting to surround yourself with friends. Just keep in mind the warnings of the previous stanzas, and choose those friends wisely.