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were like to thee. Yet to avenge them one lives still; I cannot call thee blest, until That dreaded foe has ceased to be." While to these words the king gave vent, A herald from Miletus sent, Appeared before the tyrant there: "Lord, let thy incense rise to-day, And with the laurel branches gay Thou well may'st crown thy festive hair!" "Thy foe has sunk beneath the spear,-- I'm sent to bear the glad news here, By thy true marshal Polydore"-- Then from a basin black he takes-- The fearful sight their terror wakes-- A well-known head, besmeared with gore. The king with horror stepped aside, And then with anxious look replied: "Thy bliss to fortune ne'er commit. On faithless waves, bethink thee how Thy fleet with doubtful fate swims now-- How soon the storm may scatter it!" But ere he yet had spoke the word, A shout of jubilee is heard Resounding from the distant strand. With foreign treasures teeming o'er, The vessels' mast-rich wood once more Returns home to its native land. The guest then speaks with startled mind: "Fortune to-day, in truth, seems kind; But thou her fickleness shouldst fear: The Cretan hordes, well skilled, in arms, Now threaten thee with war's alarms; E'en now they are approaching here." And, ere the word has 'scaped his lips, A stir is seen amongst the ships, And thousand voices "Victory!" cry: "We are delivered from our foe, The storm has laid the Cretan low, The war is ended, is gone by!" The shout with horror hears the guest: "In truth, I must esteem thee blest! Yet dread I the decrees of heaven. The envy of the gods I fear; To taste of unmixed rapture here Is never to a mortal given." "With me, too, everything succeeds; In all my sovereign acts and deeds The grace of Heaven is ever by; And yet I had a well-loved heir-- I paid my debt to fortune there-- God took him hence--I saw him die." "Wouldst thou from sorrow, then, be free. Pray to each unseen Deity, For thy well-being, grief to send; The man on whom the Gods bestow Their gifts with hands that overflow, Comes never to a happy end." "And if the Gods thy prayer resist, Then to a friend's instruction list,-- Invoke thyself adversity; And what, of all thy treasures bright, Gives t
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