Leave all unclosed their mountain ways Against the bold Sarmatians; 375 They who through Danube's swelling waves Dare make their way with fearless feet, And, wheresoe'er they dwell, despoil The famed and far-off Serians: In vain all these, for 'tis the soul 380 That makes the king. He needs no arms, No steeds, no ineffectual darts Such as the Parthian hurls from far In simulated flight; for him No engines huge with far-hurled rocks 385 Lay waste the hostile city's walls. But he is king who knows no fear, And he is king who has no lust; And on his throne secure he sits Who is self-crowned by conscious worth. 390 Let him who will, in pride of power, Upon the brink of empire stand: For me, be sweet repose enough; In humble station fixed, would I My life in gentle leisure spend, 395 In silence, all unknown to fame. So when my days have passed away From noisy, restless tumult free, May I, in meek obscurity 400 And full of years, decline in death. But death lies heavily on him Who, though to all the world well known, Is stranger to himself alone. ACT III [_Enter_ Thyestes _returning from banishment, accompanied by his three sons_.] _Thyestes:_ At last do I behold the welcome roofs Of this my fatherland, the teeming wealth Of Argos, and, the greatest and the best Of sights to weary exiles, here I see 405 My native soil and my ancestral gods (If gods indeed there be). And there, behold, The sacred towers by hands of Cyclops reared, In beauty far excelling human art; The race-course thronged with youth, where oftentimes Have I within my father's chariot Sped on to victory and fair renown. 410 Now will all Argos come to welcome me; The thronging folk will come--and Atreus too! Oh, better far reseek thy wooded haunts, Thy glades remote, and, mingled with the brutes, Live e'en as they. Why should this splendid realm With its fair-seeming glitter blind my eyes? 415 When thou dost look upon the goodly gift, Scan well the giver too. Of late I lived With bold and joyous spirit, though my lot All men considered hard to bear. But now My heart is filled with fears, my courage fails; And, bent on flight, my feet unwilling move. 420 _Tantalus_ [_one of_ Thyestes' _sons_]: Why, O my father, dost thou falter so With steps uncertain, turn away thy face, And hold thyself as on a doubtful course?