It suits not to defile a day auspiciousWith ill-announcing speech: distinct each god’s due:And when a messenger with gloomy visageTo a city bears a fall’n host’s woes— God ward off! —One popular wound that happens to the city,And many sacrificed from many households —Men, scourged by that two-thonged whip Ares loves so,Double spear-headed curse, bloody yoke-couple, —Of woes like these, doubtless, whoe’er comes weighted,Him does it suit to sing the Erinues’ paian.But who, of matters saved a glad-news-bringer,Comes to a city in good estate rejoicing. ...How shall I mix good things with evil, tellingOf storm against the Achaioi, urged by gods’ wrath?For they swore league, being arch-foes before that,Fire and the sea: and plighted troth approved they,Destroying the unhappy Argeian army.At night began the bad-wave-outbreak evils;For, ships against each other Threkian breezesShattered: and these, butted at in a furyBy storm and typhoon, with surge rain-resounding, —Off they went, vanished, thro’ a bad herd’s whirling.And, when returned the brilliant light of Helios,We view the Aigaian sea on flower with corpsesOf men Achaian and with naval ravage.But us indeed, and ship, unhurt i’ the hull too,Either someone outstole us or outprayed us —Some god — no man it was the tiller touching.And Fortune, saviour, willing on our ship sat.So as it neither had in harbour wave-surge