Will Cast The Spear And Leave The

How Vain, Without The Merit, Is The Name.

What Mighty Woes To Thy Imperial Race From Woman Rose.

On These Sands And In The Clefts Of The Rocks, In The Depths Of The Sea, In The Creaking Of The Pines, You'll Spy Secret Footprints And Catch Far-off Voices From The Homecoming Celebration. This Land Still Longs For Odysseus.

It Is Wrong To Be Sorry Without Ceasing.

I Hate To Tell Again A Tale Once Fully Told.