The Evils Of Mortals Are Manifold; Nowhere

Who Apart From The Gods Is Without Pain For His Whole Lifetime's Length?

The Moving Light, Rejoicing In Its Strength, Sped From The Pyre Of Pine, And Urged Its Way, In Golden Glory, Like Some Strange New Sun.

When A Match Has Equal Partners Then I Fear Not.

Still To The Sufferer Comes, As Due From God, A Glory That To Suffering Owes Its Birth.

For The Mighty, Even To Give Away Is Grace.