Even his griefs are a joy, long after, to one that remembers all that he wrought and endured
For you are goddesses, inside on everything, know everything. But we mortals hear only the news, and know nothing at all.
It is a wise child that knows his own father
Without a sign, his sword the brave man draws, and asks no omen but his country's cause
Two friends, two bodies with on soul inspired.
It behooves a father to be blameless if he expects his son to be
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.
To be both a speaker of words and a doer of deeds
Endure, my heart: you once endured something even more dreadful
I have suffered much from waves and wars, and now let this trial join the rest.