Should hear a groaning or be grieved," quoth he.
Whereat the hero, who was truth itself,
Let out the smile again, repressed awhile
Like fountain-brilliance one forbids to play.
He did too many grandnesses, to note
Much in the meaner things about his path:
And stepping there, with face towards the sun,
Stopped seldom, to pluck weeds or ask their names.
Therefore he took Admetos at the word:
This trouble must not hinder any more