If one but tell a thing well, it moves on with undying voice, and over the fruitful earth and across the sea goes the bright gleam of noble deeds ever unquenchable.
Creatures of a day, what is any one? What is he not? Man is but a dream of a shadow. Yet when there comes as a gift of heaven a gleam of sunshine, there rest upon men a radiant light and, aye, a gentle life.
Though God alone never tastes woe, Yet that man is happy, and poets sing of him, Who conquers with hand or swift foot And wins the greatest of prizes By steadfastness and strength.
