For Fate Has Wove The Thread Of

Who Love Too Much, Hate In The Like Extreme.

Nothing Feebler Than A Man Does The Earth Raise Up, Of All The Things Which Breathe And Move On The Earth, For He Believes That He Will Never Suffer Evil In The Future, As Long As The Gods Give Him Success And He Flourishes In His Strength; But When The Blessed Gods Bring Sorrows Too To Pass, Even These He Bears, Against His Will, With Steadfast Spirit, For The Thoughts Of Earthly Men Are Like The Day Which The Father Of Gods And Men Brings Upon Them.

We Mortals Hear Only The News, And Know Nothing At All.

And Overpowered By Memory Both Men Gave Way To Grief. Priam Wept Freely For Man - Killing Hector, Throbbing, Crouching Before Achilles' Feet As Achilles Wept Himself, Now For His Father, Now For Patroclus Once Again And Their Sobbing Rose And Fell Throughout The House.

Nor Can One Word Be Chang'd But For A Worse.