Nor, strewing it with garments, make my passageEnvied! Gods, sure, with these behoves we honour:But, for a mortal on these varied beautiesTo walk — to me, indeed, is nowise fear-free.I say — as man, not god, to me do homage!Apart from foot-mats both and varied vestures,Renown is loud, and — not to lose one’s senses,God’s greatest gift. Behoves we him call happy