Jove Lifts The Golden Balances That Show

Even His Griefs Are A Joy Long After To One That Remembers All That He Wrought And Endured.

Like Leaves On Trees The Race Of Man Is Found,- Now Green In Youth, Now Withering On The Ground; Another Race The Following Spring Supplies: They Fall Successive, And Successive Rise.

Close To The Gates A Spacious Garden Lies, From The Storms Defended And Inclement Skies; Four Acres Was The Allotted Space Of Ground, Fenc'd With A Green Enclosure All Around. Tall Thriving Trees Confessed The Fruitful Mold: The Reddening Apple Ripens Here To Gold, Here The Blue Fig With Luscious Juice Overflows, With Deeper Red The Full Pomegranate Glows, The Branch Here Bends Beneath The Weighty Pear, And Verdant Olives Flourish Round The Year.

But You Can't Stop At One, You Wanna Drink Another Woman!

There Is No Greater Fame For A Man Than That Which He Wins With His Footwork Or The Skill Of His Hands.