Stasimon 3
Into the fate that’s not-fulfilled-at-all!
Especially at least, of health that’s great
The term’s insatiable: for, its weight
— A neighbour, with a common wall between —
And destiny, her course pursuing straight,
1005
Has struck man’s ship against a reef unseen.
Now, when a portion, rather than the treasure,
Fear casts from sling, with peril in right measure,
It has not sunk — the universal freight,
(With misery freighted over-full)
1010
Nor has fear whelmed the hull.
Then too the gift of Zeus,
Even from the furrows’ yield for yearly use
Has done away with famine, the disease;
1015
But blood of man to earth once falling-deadly, black —
Who may, by singing spells, call back?
Zeus had not else stopped one who rightly knew
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