Wine sets even a thoughtful man to singing, or sets him into softly laughing, sets him to dancing. Sometimes it tosses out a word that was better unspoken.

Heaven hears and pities hapless men like me, For sacred ev'n to gods is misery.

I too shall lie in the dust when I am dead, but now let me win noble renown.

There is the heat of Love, the pulsing rush of Longing, the lover’s whisper, irresistible—magic to make the sanest man go mad.

Oall the creatures that creep and breathe on earth, there is none more wretched than man.

For I am yearning to visit the limits of the all-nurturing Earth, and Oceans, from whom the gods are sprung.

It is not unseemly for a man to die fighting in defense of his country.