And she it is who keeps the lives of men,
And cities, safer than high gates or walls.
But those who place their happiness in pleasure,
Are led by the least worthy of the Muses.
And we also have ourselves spoken of the manner of Zeno’s death, in our collection of poems in all metres, in the following terms:—
Some say that Zeno, pride of Cittium,
Died of old age, when weak and quite worn out;
Some say that famine’s cruel tooth did slay him;
Some that he fell, and striking hard the ground,
Said, “See, I come, why call me thus impatiently?”