436
APPENDIX.
When youth hath passed away,
With follies vain,
Who then is free from cares?
Where is not pain?
Murders and strifes and wars,
Envy and hate;
Then, evil worst of all,
The old man's fate:
Powerless and wayward then,
No friend to cheer,—
All ills on ills are met,
All dwelling there.
Epode.
Thus this poor sufferer lives,
Not I alone;
As on far northern coast
Wild waters moan,
So without rest or hope,
Woes round him swarm,
Dread as the waves that rage,
Dark as the storm,—
Some from the far, far west
Where sunsets glow;
Some where through eastern skies
Dawn's bright rays flow;
These where the burning south
Feels the hot light,
Those where Rhipæan hills
Rise in dark night.
1447–1456.
Strophe.
New sorrows throng on me,
