Beyond the stars, with idle aim,
Thy cunning shaft was shot.
CHORAL HYMN.
STROPHE I.
The hand of Jove hath smote them; thou
May’st trace it plainly;
What the god willed, behold it now
Not purposed vainly!
The gods are blind,[n40] and little caring,
So one hath said, to mark the daring
Of men, whose graceless foot hath ridden