Chapter_204

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And the son of Peleus, the only son

Whom Thetis the deathless Goddess bore

In Phthia to him⁠—from that glorious one

The arrow in battle his sweet life tore;

And the Danaans’ wail rang loud, as they yearned

For their mightiest lost, on the pyre as he burned.

Now if any of mortals by wisdom’s lore

The way of truth in his soul hath discerned,

Well may he be happy, if God bestow

The fortune fair by the Blessèd given.

Yet ever the blasts veer to and fro

Of the winds that fly o’er the fields of heaven.

Not long doth the bliss of mortals endure,

Yea, though it have come in full measure, and pure

From sorrow’s leaven.