Astraea's child, of cruel Death
The sluggish brother, mixing false1070
With true, prescient of future things,
But oftenest of misery;
O sire of all things, gate of life,
Day's respite and the comrade true
Of night, who com'st impartially
To king and slaves, with gentle hand
The wearied spirit comforting;1075
Thou who dost force the race of men