't Is Fortune Gives Us Birth, But

Now From The Smooth Deep Ocean-stream The Sun Began To Climb The Heavens, And With New Rays Smote The Surrounding Fields.

We Men Are Wretched Things.

Now Deep In Ocean Sunk The Lamp Of Light, And Drew Behind The Cloudy Vale Of Night.

Far From Me Be The Gift Of Bacchus--pernicious, Inflaming Wine, That Weakens Both Body And Mind.

One Omen Is Best, To Fight In Defense Of One's Country.