Fame in excess is but a perilous thing;
For on men's quivering eyes
Is hurled by Zeus the blinding thunderbolt.
I praise the good success
That rouses not God's wrath;
Ne'er be it mine a city to lay waste.[[303]]
Nor, as a prisoner, see
My life wear on beneath another's power!
Epode
And now at bidding of the courier flame,