Rage - Goddess, sing the rage of Peleus' son Achilles, murderous, doomed, that cost the Achaeans countless losses, hurling down to the House of Death so many sturdy souls, great fighters' souls, but made their bodies carrion, feasts for the dogs and birds, and the will of Zeus was moving toward its end. Begin, Muse, when the two first broke and clashed, Agamemnon lord of men and brilliant Achilles.
The fates have given mankind a patient soul.
Sinks my sad soul with sorrow to the grave.
His native home deep imag'd in his soul.
'T is fortune gives us birth, But Jove alone endues the soul with worth.
But he whose inborn worth his acts commend, Of gentle soul, to human race a friend.
Two friends, two bodies with one soul inspired.
[B]ut it is only what happens, when they die, to all mortals. The sinews no longer hold the flesh and the bones together, and once the spirit has let the white bones, all the rest of the body is made subject to the fire's strong fury, but the soul flitters out like a dream and flies away.
In every sorrowing soul I pour'd delight, And poverty stood smiling in my sight.
And rest at last where souls unbodied dwell, In ever-flowing meads of Asphodel.
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