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Approach then, my monarch, of Troia the sacker, of Atreus the son!
How ought I address thee, how ought I revere thee, -- nor yet overhitting
Nor yet underbending the grace that is fitting?
Many of mortals hasten to honour the seeming-to-be --
Passing by justice: and, with the ill-faring, to groan as he groans all are free.
But no bite of the sorrow their liver has reached to:
They say with the joyful, -- one outside on each, too,
As they force to a smile smileless faces.
But whoever is good at distinguishing races
In sheep of his flock -- it is not for the eyes
Of a man to escape such a shepherd's surprise,
As they seem, from a well-wishing mind,
In watery friendship to fawn and be kind.
Thou to me, then, indeed, sending an army for Helena's sake,
(I will not conceal it) wast -- oh, by no help of the Muses! -- depicted
Not well of thy midriff the rudder directing. -- convicted
Of bringing a boldness they did not desire to the men with existence at stake.
But now -- from no outside of mind, nor unlovingly -- gracious thou art
To those who have ended the labour, fulfilling their part;
And in time shalt thou know, by inquiry instructed,
Who of citizens justly, and who not to purpose, the city conducted.
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