Whoever Obeys The Gods, To Him They

For Rarely Are Sons Similar To Their Fathers: Most Are Worse, And A Few Are Better Than Their Fathers.

A Generous Heart Repairs A Slanderous Tongue.

There Is Satiety In All Things, In Sleep, And Love-making, In The Loveliness Of Singing And The Innocent Dance.

That Is The Gods' Work, Spinning Threads Of Death Through The Lives Of Mortal Men, An All To Make A Song For Those To Come.

And When Long Years And Seasons Wheeling Brought Around That Point Of Time Ordained For Him To Make His Passage Homeward, Trials And Dangers, Even So, Attended Him Even In Ithaca, Near Those He Loved.