“Wrong, if he yield to its abhorred control, Shall pierce like iron to the poor man’s soul: Wrong weighs the rich man’s conscience to the dust, When his foot stumbles on the way unjust. Far different, is the path, a path of light, That guides the feet to equitable right: The end of righteousness, enduring long, Exceeds the short prosperity of wrong. The fool by suffering his experience buys; The penalty of folly makes him wise. But they who never from the right have strayed, Who as the citizen the stranger aid, They and their cities flourish: genial Peace Dwells in their borders; and their youth increase: Nor Jove, whose radiant eyes behold afar, Hangs forth in heaven the signs of grievous war. Nor scathe nor famine on the righteous prey; Feasts, strewn by earth, employ their easy day: Rich are their mountain oaks; the topmost trees With clustering acorns full, the trunks with hiving bees. Still flourish they, nor tempt with ships the main; The fruits of earth are poured from every plain. But o’er the wicked race, to whom belong The thought of evil, and the deed of wrong, Saturnian Jove, of wide beholding eyes, Bids the dark signs of retribution rise. The god sends down his angry plagues from high, Famine and pestilence: in heaps they die. Again, in vengeance of his wrath he falls On their great hosts, and breaks their tottering walls; Arrests their navies on the ocean’s plain, And whelms their strength with mountains of the main.” ELTON. SOME OF HESIOD’S PROVERBS. ‘Than wife that’s good man finds no greater gain, But feast-frequenting mates are simply bane. Invisible, the gods are ever nigh. Senseless is he who dares with power contend. Know then this awful truth: it is not given To elude the wisdom of omniscient Heaven. Toil, and the slothful man shall envy thee. The more children, the more cares. Sometimes a day is a step-mother, sometimes a mother. Whoever forgeth for another ill, With it himself is overtaken still. The procrastinator has ever to contend with loss. The idler never shall his garners fill. The lips of moderate speech with grace are hung. When on your home falls unforeseen distress, Half-clothed come neighbors; kinsmen stay to dress. Justice is a virgin pure. The road to vice is broad and easy; that of virtue, difficult, long, and steep Fools! not to know how better for the soul, An honest half than an ill-gotten whole. Oh! gorged with gold, ye kingly judges hear! Make straight your paths; your crooked judgments fear. How richer he who dines on herbs with health Of heart, than knaves with all their wines and wealth. He who nor knows himself, nor will take rule From those who do, is either knave or fool.”