Respect thy grandsires, honour thy fathers, forget not thy parents, value thy forefathers; let thy flesh and blood keep its fame.

What madness came on thee?
And thou, shameless smith, what fate drove thee in thy lust to attempt a high-born race?
Or who sped thee, maiden, worthy of the lordliest pillows, to loves obscure?
Tell me, how durst thou taste with thy rosy lips a mouth reeking of ashes, or endure on thy breast hands filthy with charcoal, or bring close to thy side the arms that turn the live coals over, and put the palms hardened with the use of the tongs to thy pure cheeks, and embrace the head sprinkled with embers, taking it to thy bright arms?
"I remember how smiths differ from one another, for once they smote me.
All share alike the name of their calling, but the hearts beneath are different in temper.

I judge those best who weld warriors' swords and spears for the battle, whose temper shows their courage, who betoken their hearts by the sternness of their calling, whose work declares their prowess.

There are also some to whom the hollow mould yields bronze, as they make the likeness of divers things in molten gold, who smelt the veins and recast the metal.

But Nature has fashioned these of a softer temper, and has crushed with cowardice the hands which she has gifted with rare skill.