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Did they sail the pine-wood oars with double beat of surge, over the waves of the sea,  a chariot of a ship in breezes that move the linen sails, to increase the contest of wealth for their halls? For hope is sweet, and  insatiable in mortals, to their hurt, for those who bear away the weight of wealth, wandering over the wave and crossing to barbarian cities, with one expectation. But thought of wealth comes at the wrong time for some,  while for others it comes moderately.