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Soft is thy word—the doom is hard.

Thou know'st not what the fates provide.

How should I scan Zeus' mighty will,

The depth of counsel undescried?

Pray thou no word of omen ill.

What timely warning wouldst thou teach?

Beware, nor slight the gods in speech.

Zeus, hold from my body the wedlock detested, the bridegroom abhorred!

It was thou, it was thou didst release

Mine ancestress Io from sorrow: thine healing it was that restored,

The touch of thine hand gave her peace.