Even the beauteous must die!
This vanquishes men and immortals;
But of the Stygian god moves not the bosom of
steel.
Once and once only could love prevail on the ruler
of shadows,
And on the threshold, een then, sternly
his gift he recalled.
Venus could never heal the wounds of the beauteous
stripling,
That the terrible boar made in his delicate skin;
Nor could his mother immortal preserve the hero
so godlike,
When at the west gate of Troy, falling, his fate
he fulfilled.
But she arose from the ocean with all the daughters
of Nereus,
And oer her glorified son raised the loud
accents of woe.
See! where all the gods and goddesses yonder are
weeping,
That the beauteous must fade, and that the perfect
must die.
Even a woe-song to be in the mouth of the loved
ones is glorious,
For what is vulgar descends mutely to Orcus
dark shades.
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