Look with favor upon a bold beginning.

In youth alone, unhappy mortals live; But, ah! the mighty bliss is fugitive: Discolour'd sickness, anxious labour, come, And age, and death's inexorable doom.

Cease to think that the decrees of the gods can be changed by prayers.

Passion and strife bow down the mind

It is well to be informed about the winds, About the variations in the sky, The native traits and habits of the place, What each locale permits, and what denies.

I will be gone from here and sing my songs/ In the forest wilderness where the wild beasts are,/ And carve in letters on the little trees/ The story of my love, and as the trees/ Will grow letters too will grow, to cry/ In a louder voice the story of my love.

We are not all able to do all things.