Date of publication: 2017-08-25 16:28
 Were it mine to shape fate at my will, I would trim my sails to gentle winds, lest my yards tremble, bent &lsquo neath a heavy blast. May soft breezes, gently blowing, unvarying, carry my untroubled barque along may life bear me on safely, running in middle course.
Who is he by voice immortal named from Pythia's rocky cell,
Doer of foul deeds of bloodshed, horrors that no tongue can tell?
A foot for flight he needs
Fleeter than storm-swift steeds,
For on his heels doth follow,
Armed with the lightnings of his Sire, Apollo.
Like sleuth-hounds too
The Fates pursue.
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My greetings to thee, stranger thy fair words
Deserve a like response. But tell me why
Thou comest what thy need or what thy news.
 By fate are we driven yield ye to fate. No anxious cares can change the threads of its inevitable spindle. Whate&rsquo er we mortals bear, whate&rsquo er we do, comes from on high 69 and Lachesis maintains the decrees of her distaff which by no hand may be reversed. All things move on in an appointed path, and our first day fixed our last. Those things God may not change which speed on their way, close woven with their causes. To each his established life goes on, unmovable by any prayer. To many their very fear is bane for many have come upon their doom while shunning doom.
All-seeing Time hath caught
Guilt, and to justice brought
The son and sire commingled in one bed.
O child of Laius' ill-starred race
Would I had ne'er beheld thy face
I raise for thee a dirge as o'er the dead.
Yet, sooth to say, through thee I drew new breath,
And now through thee I feel a second death.
[Enter SECOND MESSENGER.]
I'm sorry, what refernce material are you using for Knox. We have no access to what you are studying in the classroom, only to the text of Gulliver's Travels.
My liege, if any man sees eye to eye
With our lord Phoebus, 'tis our prophet, lord
Teiresias he of all men best might guide
A searcher of this matter to the light.