I Don't Know How Much

Forget The Brother And Resume The Man.

Do Thou Restrain The Haughty Spirit In Thy Breast, For Better Far Is Gentle Courtesy.

And His Good Wife Will Tear Her Cheeks In Grief, His Sons Are Orphans And He, Soaking The Soil Red With His Own Blood, He Rots Away Himself-more Birds Than Women Flocking Round His Body!

Lay Ye Down The Golden Chain From Heaven, And Pull At Its Inferior Links Both Goddesses And Gods.

The Sun Rose On The Flawless Brimming Sea Into A Sky All Brazen-all One Brightening For Gods Immortal And For Mortal Men On Plowlands Kind With Grain.