Homer ("Smyrns of Chios")

Fly, dotard, fly!
With thy wise dreams and fables of the sky.

Fly, dotard, fly!
With thy wise dreams and fables of the sky.

It is not strength, but art, obtains the prize,
And to be swift is less than to be wise.
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It is not strength, but art, obtains the prize,
And to be swift is less than to be wise.
'Tis more by art, than force of numerous strokes.

By Jove the stranger and the poor are sent,
And what to those we give, to Jove is lent.

By Jove the stranger and the poor are sent,
And what to those we give, to Jove is lent.

Praise me not too much,
Nor blame me, for thou speakest to the Greeks
Who know me.

Praise me not too much,
Nor blame me, for thou speakest to the Greeks
Who know me.

Our fruitless labours mourn,
And only rich in barren fame return.

Our fruitless labours mourn,
And only rich in barren fame return.