It Is Better To Watch People Do

Sing, O Muse, Of The Rage Of Achilles, Son Of Peleus, That Brought Countless Ills Upon The Achaeans.

Why Have You Come To Me Here, Dear Heart, With All These Instructions? I Promise You I Will Do Everything Just As You Ask. But Come Closer. Let Us Give In To Grief, However Briefly, In Each Other's Arms.

And Endless Are The Modes Of Speech, And Far Extends From Side To Side The Field Of Words.

It Is Not Good To Have A Rule Of Many.

Close To The Gates A Spacious Garden Lies, From The Storms Defended And Inclement Skies; Four Acres Was The Allotted Space Of Ground, Fenc'd With A Green Enclosure All Around. Tall Thriving Trees Confessed The Fruitful Mold: The Reddening Apple Ripens Here To Gold, Here The Blue Fig With Luscious Juice Overflows, With Deeper Red The Full Pomegranate Glows, The Branch Here Bends Beneath The Weighty Pear, And Verdant Olives Flourish Round The Year.