Far From Me Be The Gift Of

And For Yourself, May The Gods Grant You Your Heart's Desire, A Husband And A Home, And The Blessing Of A Harmonious Life. For Nothing Is Greater Or Finer Than This, When A Man And Woman Live Together With One Hear And Mind, Bringing Joy To Their Friends And Grief To Their Foes.

Clanless, Lawless, Homeless Is He Who Is In Love With Civil War, That Brutal Ferocious Thing.

Most Grievous Of All Deaths It Is To Die Of Hunger.

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

Two Urns On Jove's High Throne Have Ever Stood, The Source Of Evil One, And One Of Good; From Thence The Cup Of Mortal Man He Fills, Blessings To These, To Those Distributes Ills; To Most He Mingles Both.