Nothing Feebler Does Earth Nurture Than Man,

And By The Sacred Parchment, I Swear That If I Reveal The Secrets Of The Stonecutters, May My Stomach Become Bloated And My Head Be Plucked Of All But Three Hairs

We Are Quick To Flare Up, We Races Of Men On The Earth.

I Too Shall Lie In The Dust When I Am Dead, But Now Let Me Win Noble Renown.

Zeus Does Not Bring All Men's Plans To Fulfillment.

Is He Not Sacred, Even To The Gods, The Wandering Man Who Comes In Weariness?