Ἄνδρα μοι ἔννεπε, Μοῦσα, πολύτροπον, ὃς μάλα πολλὰ πλάγχθη, ἐπεὶ Τροίης ἱερὸν πτολίεθρον ἔπερσε· πολλῶν δ’ ἀνθρώπων ἴδεν ἄστεα καὶ νόον ἔγνω, πολλὰ δ’ ὅ γ’ ἐν πόντῳ πάθεν ἄλγεα ὃν κατὰ θυμόν, ἀρνύμενος ἥν τε ψυχὴν καὶ νόστον ἑταίρων.The man for wisdoms various arts renownd, Long exercised in woes, O Muse! resound; Who, when his arms had wrought the destined fall Of sacred Troy, and razed her heaven-built wall, Wandering from clime to clime, observant strayd, Their manners noted, and their states surveyd, On stormy seas unnumberd toils he bore, Safe with his friends to gain his natal shore. Book I, lines 1–5 tr. by Alexander Pope. — Homer wisdom Man, supposing you and I, escaping this battle, would be able to live on forever, ageless, immortal, so neither would I myself go on fighting in the foremost, nor would I urge you into the fighting where men win glory. But now, seeing that the spirits of death stand close about us in their thousands, no man can turn aside or escape them, let us go on and win glory for ourselves, or yield it to others.XII. 322–328; Sarpedon to Glaukos. — Homer death Man, supposing you and I, escaping this battle, would be able to live on forever, ageless, immortal, so neither would I myself go on fighting in the foremost, nor would I urge you into the fighting where men win glory. But now, seeing that the spirits of death stand close about us in their thousands, no man can turn aside or escape them, let us go on and win glory for ourselves, or yield it to others.XII. 322–328 tr. Lattimore; Sarpedon to Glaukos. — Homer death The man for wisdoms various arts renownd, Long exercised in woes, O Muse! resound; Who, when his arms had wrought the destined fall Of sacred Troy, and razed her heaven-built wall, Wandering from clime to clime, observant strayd, Their manners noted, and their states surveyd, On stormy seas unnumberd toils he bore, Safe with his friends to gain his natal shore. — Homer wisdom Ἔνθ ἔνι μὲν φιλότης, ἐν δ ἵμερος, ἐν δ ὀαριστὺς πάρφασις, ἥ τ ἔκλεψε νόον πύκα περ φρονεόντων.There is the heat of Love, the pulsing rush of Longing, the lovers whisper, irresistible—magic to make the sanest man go mad. XIV. 216–217 tr. Robert Fagles. Alexander Popes translation:In this was every art, and every charm, To win the wisest, and the coldest warm: Fond love, the gentle vow, the gay desire, The kind deceit, the still reviving fire, Persuasive speech, and more persuasive sighs, Silence that spoke, and eloquence of eyes. — Homer love
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