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1211–1248.
Strophe.
One whose desire is strong
For length of days,
Who slights the middle path,
True path of praise;
He in my eyes shall seem
Mere dreamer vain;
For ofttimes length of days
Brings nought but pain;
And joys—thou can'st not now
Their dwelling guess,
When once a man gives way
To hope's excess;
At last the helper comes
That comes to all,
When Hades' doom appears
And dark shades fall;
Lyreless and songless then,
No wedding guest,
Death comes to work the end,
Death, last and best.
Antistrophe.
For length of days,
Who slights the middle path,
True path of praise;
He in my eyes shall seem
Mere dreamer vain;
For ofttimes length of days
Brings nought but pain;
And joys—thou can'st not now
Their dwelling guess,
When once a man gives way
To hope's excess;
At last the helper comes
That comes to all,
When Hades' doom appears
And dark shades fall;
Lyreless and songless then,
No wedding guest,
Death comes to work the end,
Death, last and best.
Never to be at all,
Excels all fame;
Quickly, next best, to pass
From whence we came.
When youth hath passed away,
With follies vain,
Who then is free from cares?
Where is not pain?
Murders and strifes and wars,
Envy and hate;
Then, evil worst of all,
The old man's fate:
Powerless and wayward then,
No friend to cheer,—
All ills on ills are met,
All dwelling there.
Epode.
Excels all fame;
Quickly, next best, to pass
From whence we came.
436
With follies vain,
Who then is free from cares?
Where is not pain?
Murders and strifes and wars,
Envy and hate;
Then, evil worst of all,
The old man's fate:
Powerless and wayward then,
No friend to cheer,—
All ills on ills are met,
All dwelling there.
Thus this poor sufferer lives,
Not I alone;
As on far northern coast
Wild waters moan,
So without rest or hope,
Woes round him swarm,
Dread as the waves that rage,
Dark as the storm,—
Some from the far, far west
Where sunsets glow;
Some where through eastern skies
Dawn's bright rays flow;
These where the burning south
Feels the hot light,
Those where Rhipæan hills
Rise in dark night.
Not I alone;
As on far northern coast
Wild waters moan,
So without rest or hope,
Woes round him swarm,
Dread as the waves that rage,
Dark as the storm,—
Some from the far, far west
Where sunsets glow;
Some where through eastern skies
Dawn's bright rays flow;
These where the burning south
Feels the hot light,
Those where Rhipæan hills
Rise in dark night.
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