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.