The anvil of justice is planted firm, and fate who makes the sword does the forging in advance.
My friends, whoever has had experience of evils knows how whenever a flood of ills comes upon mortals, a man fears everything; but whenever a divine force cheers on our voyage, then we believe that the same fate will always blow fair.
Yet though a man gets many wounds in breast, He dieth not, unless the appointed time, The limit of his life's span, coincide; Nor does the man who by the hearth at home Sits still, escape the doom that Fate decrees.
And now it goes as it goes and where it ends is Fate. And neither by singeing flesh nor tipping cups of wine nor shedding burning tears can you enchant away the rigid Fury.
But still the block of Vengeance firm doth stand, and Fate, as swordsmith, hammers blow on blow.
For this our task hath Fate spun without fail to last for ever sure, that we on man weighed down with deeds of hate should follow till the earth his life immure. Nor when he dies can he boast of being truly free.
For by the will of the gods Fate hath held sway since ancient days.
For the marriage bed ordained by fate for men and women is stronger than an oath and guarded by Justice.
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