And thou, O life, that by thy coaxing arts
Dost strive to hold the wretched in the light,
Begone! for every day is vile to me
That shineth not upon my Hercules.970
Oh, let me bear, myself, thy sufferings
And give my life for thee. Or shall I wait
And keep myself for death at thy right hand?
Hast still some strength in thee, and can thy hands
Still bend the bow and speed the fatal shaft?
Or do thy weapons lie unused, thy bow975