The goddess, wise, was born unmixed
From Zeus, and was his favorite;
All wisdom, craft, and justice fixed
By her strong hands and unmatched wit.
Her gifts to man are beyond count:
How could he thrive without her aid?
Descends she from the lofty mount,
All armed as war’s triumphant maid.
She taught the cultivation of
The olive tree, and crafts were hers;
Unmoved, unswayed by sickly love,
Her justice right rewards renders.
Her favour for Odysseus,
Most cunning of all men, and wise,
Ceased not, and therefore shows to us,
To whom we may lift up our eyes,
As model for a worthy life;
He slew the suitors at their feast,
Turned table joys to bitter strife,
Till to a man they were deceased.
She judged Orestes innocent,
To free him from the Furies’ wrath;
So, on his way the king’s son went,
To tread a lighter, joyful, path.
She loves the hero, he who fights,
Who struggles on for what is right,
Whose raging sword the unjust bites,
Reducing them to shades by might.

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