So in the Libyan fable it is told That once an eagle, stricken with a dart, Said, when he saw the fashion of the shaft, With our own feathers, not by others hands, Are we now smitten.1
Of all the gods, Death only craves not gifts: Nor sacrifice, nor yet drink-offering poured Avails; no altars hath he, nor is soothed By hymns of praise. From him alone of all The powers of heaven Persuasion holds aloof.
There is an ancient saying, famous among men, that thou shouldst not judge fully of a mans life before he dieth, whether it should be called blest or wretched.2