Sweet sleep fell upon his eyelids, unwakeful, most pleasant, the nearest like death.
Pffft, English. Who needs that? I'm never going to England.
The man who acts the least, upbraids the most.
...like that star of the waning summer who beyond all stars rises bathed in the ocean stream to glitter in brilliance.
Proud is the spirit of Zeus-fostered kings - their honor comes from Zeus, and Zeus, god of council, loves them.
Short is my date, but deathless my renown.