But When The Dust Has Drunk The

Ask The Gods Nothing Excessive.

Alas For The Affairs Of Men! When They Are Fortunate You Might Compare Them To A Shadow; And If They Are Unfortunate, A Wet Sponge With One Dash Wipes The Picture Away.

Success! To Thee, As To A God, Men Bend The Knee.

Yet Though A Man Gets Many Wounds In Breast, He Dieth Not, Unless The Appointed Time, The Limit Of His Life's Span, Coincide; Nor Does The Man Who By The Hearth At Home Sits Still, Escape The Doom That Fate Decrees.

Of All The Gods Only Death Does Not Desire Gifts.