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Three Millennia of Greek Literature
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Horace, Be resigned to greatness

From Odes: Impios Parrae, Translated by John Conington

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Page 2

So to the bull Europa gave
Her beauteous form, and when she saw
The monstrous deep, the yawning grave,
Grew pale with awe.
That morn of meadow-flowers she thought,
Weaving a crown the nymphs to please:
That gloomy night she look'd on nought
But stars and seas.
Then, as in hundred-citied Crete
She landed,--"O my sire!" she said,
"O childly duty! passion's heat
Has struck thee dead.
Whence came I? death, for maiden's shame,
Were little. Do I wake to weep
My sin? or am I pure of blame,
And is it sleep
From dreamland brings a form to trick
My senses? Which was best? to go
Over the long, long waves, or pick
The flowers in blow?

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 Cf. Chaucer, To the end of the world  Bryant, Saintly and criminal 
Hugo, In a grand parliament of intelligence
Andersen, Soon shall the whole world admire thy Psyche

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Reference address : https://www.ellopos.net/elpenor/greeks-us/horace-zeus-europa.asp?pg=2