I detest that man, who hides one thing in the depths of his heart, and speaks forth another
Even his griefs are a joy, long after, to one that remembers all that he wrought and endured
Without a sign, his sword the brave man draws, and asks no omen but his country's cause
Two friends, two bodies with on soul inspired.
Endure, my heart: you once endured something even more dreadful
It behooves a father to be blameless if he expects his son to be
As is the generation of leaves, so is that of humanity. / The wind scatters the leaves on the ground, but the live timber burgeons with leaves again in the season of spring returning. / So one generation of men will grow while another dies.
It is a wise child that knows his own father
For you are goddesses, inside on everything, know everything. But we mortals hear only the news, and know nothing at all.
Two urns on Jove's high throne have ever stood,The source of evil one, and one of good; From thence the cup of mortal man he fills,Blessings to these, to those distributes ills;To most he mingles both.
