Ill Fares The State Where Many Masters

It Is Wrong To Sorrow Without Ceasing.

Among All Men On The Earth Bards Have A Share Of Honor And Reverence, Because The Muse Has Taught Them Songs And Loves The Race Of Bards.

There Is Nothing Alive More Agonized Than Man / Of All That Breathe And Crawl Across The Earth.

So Peaceful Shalt Thou End Thy Blissful Days, And Steal Thyself From Life By Slow Decays.

Toil Is The Lot Of All, And Bitter Woe The Fate Of Many.