What Greater Glory Attends A Man Than

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.

How Vain, Without The Merit, Is The Name.

My Life Is More To Me Than All The Wealth Of Ilius

Death Submits To No One.

Wine Gives Strength To Weary Men.