Our Fruitless Labours Mourn, And Only Rich

He Knew The Things That Were And The Things That Would Be And The Things That Had Been Before.

So, The Gods Don't Hand Out All Their Gifts At Once, Not Build And Brains And Flowing Speech To All. One Man May Fail To Impress Us With His Looks But A God Can Crown His Words With Beauty, Charm, And Men Look On With Delight When He Speaks Out. Never Faltering, Filled With Winning Self-control, He Shines Forth At Assembly Grounds And People Gaze At Him Like A God When He Walks Through The Streets. Another Man May Look Like A Deathless One On High But There's Not A Bit Of Grace To Crown His Words. Just Like You, My Fine, Handsome Friend.

The Chance Of War Is Equal, And The Slayer Oft Is Slain.

For When Two Join In The Same Adventure, One Perceives Before The Other How They Ought To Act; While One Alone, However Prompt, Resolves More Tardily And With A Weaker Will.

So Peaceful Shalt Thou End Thy Blissful Days, And Steal Thyself From Life By Slow Decays.