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indeed he has outrun me; Now I am one thing, but I shall be another, if indeed I shall be. Nothing is constant; I am the flow of a muddy river ever approaching, having nothing that stands still. Why do you ask me these things? what more am I to you, tell me. 758 And now remaining here, watch lest I escape you. Neither will you cross the flow of the same river twice again, nor will you see the same mortal as before. I was before in my father's flesh, then my mother received me, a common thing of both. From there then, flesh unformed, not mortal, a formless shame, partaking neither of reason, nor of mind, having my mother for a tomb. Twice buried, living for corruption. For the life which I travel, this I see as an expense of years, which poured out destructive old age for me. But if an unperishing age receives me there, as is the report, Consider lest life may have death, and death may be life for you, the opposite of what you think. 759 I was born as nothing. Why am I mastered by evils, as something fixed? For this alone is unchangeable for mortals, innate, unshakeable, unaging. From the time when, slipping from my mother's womb, I first shed a tear, for so many and such woes as I was about to encounter, weeping before I touch life! We hear of a certain land without wild beasts, as Crete once was, and a certain one foreign to chilling snows; but no mortal ever prayed for this, that unconquered he departed hence from the hateful toils of this life. Helplessness, and poverty, childbirth, fate, enmity, sinners, beasts of the sea, of the earth, pains, all these are life. I have considered many woes and altogether joyless things, 760 but of good things, none is entirely without a share of pain, ever since the destructive tasting, and the envy of the adversary, wiped a bitter penalty on me. To you then, flesh, such things, hard to heal, to a friendly enemy, and to a war never to be ended, to a beast fawning bitterly, to a fire that chills, what a wonder! A great wonder, if you should ever at last be kind to me. Soul, to you then will be said what is fitting. Who, from where, or what are you? Who made you a bearer of the dead, and bound you with the hateful fetters of life, to an earth weighed down on all sides? How were you mixed, a spirit with thickness, a mind with flesh, and light with a burden? For these things fight each other in opposition. 761 If indeed you came into life sown together with the flesh, woe is me for a destructive union from afar! I am an image of God, and I was born a son of shame; I am ashamed of madness, the mother of honor. For a flux begot me, and it has perished; now a mortal; again not a mortal, but dust; last hopes. But if you are heavenly, who, from where? Teach me who longs to know. If you are a breath and a portion of God, as you think, cast off recklessness, and I obey. For it is not fitting for the pure to be defiled, not even a little. For neither is darkness a portion of the sun, nor has a radiant offspring of an evil spirit appeared. But how are you so driven by the shocks of destructive Belial, 762 though you are mixed with the heavenly Spirit? For if, having such a helper, you incline to the earth, alas for your unmixed, destructive evil! But if you are not from God for me, what is your nature? Truly a great terror, lest I ever be puffed up with vain glory. The creation of God, paradise, Eden, glory, hope, command, the world-destroying rain, the fire-bearing rain, but then the law, a written cure; but then Christ, mixing his own form with ours, so that God, suffering in my sufferings, might grant me aid, and make me a god in this mortal form. But still I have an unconquered spirit, and we rush to the sword with self-slaying madness, like swine 763 What good is there in life? The light of God? But even from this an envious and hateful darkness bars me. Nothing more for me. But what more is there not for the evil? For would that I had an equal share, though toiling much! I lie here powerless; and a divine terror has bent me; I am worn out by daily and nightly cares. This one with the strong neck pushed me backward on my back, he trod upon me with his heel. But you tell me all the terrors, misty Tartarus, the fire-blazing rivers, the lashes, the demons, who are the avengers of our souls. All these are a myth to the evil, and only what is at their feet is best; 764 The evil of torment does not turn back. It would have been better for sinners to be unpunished later, than for me now to be distressed by the woes of evil. But why should I, why should I sing of so many pains of mortals? Upon all of our race there is pain. The earth is not unshaken for me, winds agitate the sea. And the seasons

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μὲν παρέθρεξεν ἐμεῖο· Ἄλλο δὲ νῦν τελέθω, ἄλλ' ἔσομ', εἴ γ' ἔσομαι. Ἔμπεδον οὐδέν· ἔγωγε ῥόος θολεροῦ ποταμοῖο Αἰὲν ἐπερχόμενος, ἑσταὸς οὐδὲν ἔχων. Τίπτε με τῶνδ' ἐρέεις; τί δέ σοι πλέον εἰμὶ, δίδαξον. 758 Καὶ νῦν τῇδε μένων, δέρκεο μή σε φύγω. Οὔτε δὶς ὃν τοπάροιθε, ῥόον ποταμοῖο περήσεις Ἔμπαλιν, οὔτε βροτὸν ὄψεαι, ὃν τοπάρος. Ἦν πάρος ἐν χροῒ πατρὸς, ἔπειτά μ' ἐδέξατο μήτηρ, Ξυνὸν δ' ἀμφοτέρων. Ἔνθεν ἔπειτα κρέας Ἄκριτον, ἄβροτον, αἶσχος ἀνείδεον, οὔτε λόγοιο, Οὔτε νόου μετέχον, μητέρα τύμβον ἔχον. ∆ὶς ταφέες, ζώοντες ἐπὶ φθορᾷ. Ἣν γὰρ ὁδεύω Ζωὴν, τήνδ' ὁρόω τῶν ἐτέων δαπάνην, Ἥ μοι γῆρας ἔχευεν ὀλοίϊον. Εἰ δέ με κεῖθι Αἰὼν οὐ φθινύθων δέξεται, οἷα φάτις, Φράζεο μὴ ζωὴ μὲν ἔχῃ μόρον, ἡ δὲ τελευτὴ Ζωή σοί γε πέλῃ, ἔμπαλιν ἣ δοκέεις. 759 Οὐδὲν ἔφυν. Τί κακοῖσι δαμάζομαι, ὥς τι πεπηγός; Τοῦτο γὰρ ἡμερίων ἄτροπόν ἐστι μόνον, Συμφυὲς, ἀστυφέλικτον, ἀγήραον. Ἐξότε κόλπων Μητρὸς ὀλισθήσας πρῶτον ἀφῆκα δάκρυ, Ὁσσατίοις, οἵοις τε συναντήσασθαι ἔμελλον Πήμασι, δακρυχέων πρὶν βιότοιο θίγω! Χώρην μέν τιν' ἄθηρον ἀκούομεν, ὥς ποτε Κρήτην, Καί τινα καὶ κρυερῶν ἀλλοτρίην νιφάδων· Θνητῶν δ' οὔ ποτέ τις τόδ' ἐπεύξατο, ὡς ἀδάμαστος Τοῦδε βίου στυγερῶν ἔνθεν ἀπῆλθε μόγων. Ἀδρανίη, πενίη τε, τόκος, μόρος, ἔχθος, ἀλιτροὶ, Θῆρες ἁλὸς, γαίης, ἄλγεα, πάντα βίος. Πήματα μὲν καὶ πάμπαν ἀτερπέα πόλλ' ἐνόησα, 760 Τῶν δ' ἀγαθῶν οὐδὲν πάμπαν ἄμοιρον ἄχους, Ἐξέτι τοῦ, ὅτε μοι πικρὴν ἐπομόρξατο ποινὴν Γεῦσίς τ' οὐλομένη, καὶ φθόνος ἀντιπάλου. Σοὶ μὲν δὴ, σὰρξ, τοῖα δυσαλθέϊ, εὐμενέοντι Ἐχθρῷ, καὶ πολέμῳ οὔποτε λυομένῳ, Θηρὶ πικρὸν σαίνοντι, πυρὶ ψύχοντι, τὸ θαῦμα! Θαῦμα μέγ', εἴ ποτ' ἐμοί γ' ὕστατον εὐμενέοις. Ψυχὴ, σοὶ δ' ἄρ' ἔπειτα λελέξεται ὅσσ' ἐπέοικε. Τίς, πόθεν, ἢ τί πέλεις; τίς δέ σε νεκροφόρον Θήκατο, καὶ στυγερῇσι πέδαις ἐνέδησε βίοιο, Ἐς χθόνα βριθομένην πάντοθε; Πῶς ἐμίγης Πνεῦμα πάχει, σαρξὶν δὲ νόος, καὶ ἄχθεϊ κούφη; Ταῦτα γὰρ ἀλλήλοις μάρναται ἀντιθέτως. 761 Εἰ μὲν δὴ σάρκεσσιν ὁμόσπορος ἐς βίον ἦλθες, Ὤ μοι συζυγίης τηλόθεν οὐλομένης! Εἰκών εἰμι Θεοῖο, καὶ αἴσχεος υἱὸς ἐτύχθην· Αἰδέομαι τιμῆς μητέρα μαργοσύνην. Ῥεῦσις γάρ μ' ἐφύτευσεν, ὁ δ' ἔφθιτο· νῦν βροτός· αὖθις Οὐ βροτὸς, ἀλλὰ κόνις· ἐλπίδες ὑστάτιαι. Εἰ δὲ σύ γ' οὐρανίη, τίς, ὅθεν; ποθέοντα δίδαξον. Εἰ μὲν ἄημα Θεοῦ καὶ λάχος, ὡς φρονέεις, Ῥίψον ἀτασθαλίην, καὶ πείθομαι. Οὐ γὰρ ἔοικε Τοῦ καθαροῦ ῥυπαρὴν ἔμμεναι, οὐδ' ὀλίγον. Οὐδὲ γὰρ ἠελίοιο λάχος σκότος, οὐδὲ πονηροῦ Πνεύματος αἰγλῆεν ἔκγονον ἐξεφάνη. Πῶς δ' ὀλοοῦ Βελίαο τινάγμασι τόσσον ἐλαύνῃ, 762 Καί περ ἐπουρανίῳ Πνεύματι κιρναμένη; Εἰ γὰρ τοῖον ἔχουσα βοηθόον ἐς χθόνα νεύεις, Αἲ αἳ τῆς ἀκράτου σῆς ὀλοῆς κακίης! Εἰ δ' οὔ μοι θεόθεν σὺ, τίς ἡ φύσις; ἦ μέγα τάρβος, Μή ποτε μαψιδίῳ κύδεϊ φυσιόω. Πλάσμα Θεοῦ, παράδεισος, Ἔδεμ, κλέος, ἐλπὶς, ἐφετμὴ, Ὄμβρος ὁ κοσμολέτης, ὄμβρος ὁ πυρσοπόλος, Αὐτὰρ ἔπειτα νόμος, γραπτὸν ἄκος· αὐτὰρ ἔπειτα Χριστὸς ἑὴν μορφὴν ἡμετέρῃ κεράσας, Ὥς κεν ἐμοῖς παθέεσσι παθὼν Θεὸς, ἄλκαρ ὀπάζοι, Καί με θεὸν τελέσῃ εἴδεϊ τῷ βροτέῳ. Ἀλλ' ἔμπης ἀδάμαστον ἔχω μένος, ἐς δὲ σίδηρον Αὐτοφόνῳ μανίῃ σπεύδομεν, ὥστε σύες 763 Τίπτ' ἀγαθὸν βιότοιο; Θεοῦ φάος; Ἀλλ' ἄρα καὶ τοῦ Εἴργει με φθονερὴ καὶ στυγερὴ σκοτίη. Οὐδὲν πλεῖον ἔμοιγε. Τί δ' οὐ πλέον ἐστὶ κακοῖσιν; Αἴθε γὰρ ἶσον ἔχον, καὶ μάλα περ μογέων! Κεῖμ' ὀλιγοδρανέων· τάρβος δέ με θεῖον ἔκαμψε· Τέτρυμ' ἠματίαις φροντίσι καὶ νυχίαις. Οὗτος ὁ βρισαύχην με καὶ ὕπτιον ὦσεν ὀπίσσω, Λὰξ ἐπέβη. Σὺ δέ μοι δείματα πάντα λέγε, Τάρταρον ἠερόεντα, πυριφλεγέθοντας, ἱμάσθλας, ∆αίμονας, οἳ ψυχῶν πράκτορες ἡμετέρων. Μῦθος ἅπαντα κακοῖσι, τὸ δ' ἐν ποσὶ μοῦνον ἄριστον· 764 Οὐδὲν ἐπιστρέφεται τῆς βασάνου κακίη. Λώϊον ἦν ἀλιτροῖσιν ἐς ὕστερον ἔμμεν' ἄτιτα, Ἢ ἐμὲ νῦν κακίης πήμασιν ἀσχαλαᾷν. Ἀλλὰ τί μοι, βροτέων τί δέ μοι τόσον ἄλγε' ἀείδειν; Ἡμετέρης γενεῆς πᾶσιν ἔπεστιν ἄχος. Οὔ μοι χθὼν ἀτίνακτος, ἅλα κλονέουσιν ἀῆται. Ὧραι δ'