Fragments
38
Aphrodite loquitur
The pure, bright heaven still yearns to blend with earth,
And earth is filled with love for marriage-rites,
And from the kindly sky the rain-shower falls
And fertilises earth, and earth for men
Yields grass for sheep, and corn, Demêter’s gift;
And from its wedlock with the South the fruit
Is ripened in its season; and of this,
All this, I am the cause accessory.
123
So, in the Libyan fables, it is told
That once an eagle, stricken with a dart,
Said, when he saw the fashion of the shaft,
“With our own feathers, not by others’ hands,
Are we now smitten.”
147
Of all the Gods, Death only craves not gifts:
Nor sacrifice, nor yet drink-offering poured
Avails; no altars hath he, nor is soothed
By hymns of praise. From him alone of all
The powers of Heaven Persuasion holds aloof.
151
When ’tis God’s will to bring an utter doom
Upon a house, He first in mortal men
Implants what works it out.
162
The words of Truth are ever simplest found.
163
What good is found in life that still brings pain?
174
To many mortals silence great gain brings.
229
O Death the Healer, scorn thou not, I pray,
To come to me: of cureless ills thou art
The one physician. Pain lays not its touch
Upon a corpse.
230
When the wind
Nor suffers us to leave the port, nor stay.
243
And if thou wish to benefit the dead,
’Tis all as one as if thou injured’st them,
And they nor sorrow nor delight can feel:
Yet higher than we are is Nemesis,
And Justice taketh vengeance for the dead.
266
Thetis on the death of Achilles
Life free from sickness, and of many years,
And in a word a fortune like to theirs
Whom the Gods love, all this He spake to me
As pæan-hymn, and made my heart full glad:
And I full fondly trusted Phœbos’ lips
As holy and from falsehood free, of art
Oracular an ever-flowing spring,
And He who sang this, He who at the feast
Being present, spake these things,—yea, He it is
That slew my son.
267
The man who does ill, ill must suffer too.
268
Evil on mortals comes full swift of foot,
And guilt on him who doth the right transgress.
269
Thou see’st a vengeance voiceless and unseen
For one who sleeps or walks or sits at ease:
It takes its course obliquely, here to-day,
And there to-morrow. Nor does night conceal
Men’s deeds of ill, but whatsoe’er thou dost,
Think that some God beholds it.
270
“All have their chance:” good proverb for the rich.
271
Wise is the man who knows what profiteth,
Not he who knoweth much.
272
Full grievous burden is a prosperous fool.
272A
From a just fraud God turneth not away.
273
There is a time when God doth falsehood prize.
274
The polished brass is mirror of the form,
Wine of the soul.
275
Words are the parents of a causeless wrath.
276
Men credit gain for oaths, not oaths for them.
277
God ever works with those that work with will.
278
Wisdom to learn is e’en for old men good.
281
The base who prosper are intolerable.
282
The seed of mortals broods o’er passing things,
And hath nought surer than the smoke-cloud’s shadow.
283
Old age hath stronger sense of right than youth.
286
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.
287
How far from just the hate men bear to death,
Which comes as safeguard against many ills.
288
To Fortune
Thou did’st beget me; thou too, as it seems,
Wilt now destroy me.
289
The fire-moth’s silly death is that I fear.
290
I by experience know the race full well
That dwells in Æthiop land, where seven-mouthed Nile
Rolls o’er the land with winds that bring the rain,
What time the fiery sun upon the earth
Pours its hot rays, and melts the snow till then
Hard as the rocks; and all the fertile soil
Of Egypt, filled with that pure-flowing stream,
Brings forth Demêter’s ears that feed our life.
291
This hoopoo, witness of its own dire ills,
He hath in varied garb set forth, and shows
In full array that bold bird of the rocks
Which, when the spring first comes, unfurls a wing
Like that of white-plumed kite; for on one breast
It shows two forms, its own and eke its child’s,
And when the corn grows gold, in autumn’s prime,
A dappled plumage all its form will clothe;
And ever in its hate of these ’twill go
Far off to lonely thickets or bare rocks.
292
Still to the sufferer comes, as due from God,
A glory that to suffering owes its birth.
293
The air is Zeus, Zeus earth, and Zeus the heaven,
Zeus all that is, and what transcends them all.
294
Take courage; pain’s extremity soon ends.
298
When Strength and Justice are true yoke-fellows,
Where can be found a mightier pair than they?