My bark, once struck by the fury of the storm, dreads again to approach the place of danger.
Destroy our leisure and you break love's bow.
A ruler should be slow to punish and swift to reward.
Sleep, thou repose of all things; sleep, thou gentlest of the deities; thou peace of the mind, from which care flies; who doest soothe the hearts of men wearied with the toils of the day, and refittest them for labor.
Thy destiny is only that of man, but thy aspirations may be those of a god.
The poet's labors are a work of joy, and require peace of mind.