POLYNEICES Nay, that rests with
fate, Whether I live or die; but for you both I pray to heaven ye may escape all ill; For ye are blameless in the eyes of all.
Here a rumor was heard of the disastrous
fate of the Tonquin.
There you are, and yet you talk of coincidence and
Fate. You naturally seek out things Italian, and so do we and our friends.
Strange are the ways of
Fate, her power Nor wealth, nor arms withstand, nor tower; Nor brass-prowed ships, that breast the sea From
Fate can flee.
He was trying to dismiss the whole thing from his mind--a feat which had hitherto proved beyond his powers--when
Fate, in an unusually kindly mood, enabled him to do so in a flash by presenting to his jaundiced gaze what, on consideration, he decided was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.
Momentarily stunned, Gahan's fingers slipped from their hold upon the cordage and the man shot downward through the thin air of dying Mars toward the ground three thousand feet beneath, while upon the deck of the rolling Vanator his faithful warriors clung to their lashings all unconscious of the
fate of their beloved leader; nor was it until more than an hour later, after the storm had materially subsided, that they realized he was lost, or knew the self-sacrificing heroism of the act that had sealed his doom.
"I am determined to stop this barbarous practice of the Sultan's, and to deliver the girls and mothers from the awful
fate that hangs over them."
7: And, they say, Hesiod is sufficient to prove that the word PONEROS (bad) has the same sense as `laborious' or `ill-fated'; for in the "Great Eoiae" he represents Alcmene as saying to Heracles: `My son, truly Zeus your father begot you to be the most toilful as the most excellent...'; and again: `The
Fatespursued and scorned of
fate, I have again allowed myself to abjure my own dignity.
And yet sometimes one gets a hint of what the last scene may be like in the life of a ship and her crew, which resembles a drama in its struggle against a great force bearing it up, formless, ungraspable, chaotic and mysterious, as
fate.
Was it not
Fate, that, on this July midnight- Was it not
Fate, (whose name is also Sorrow,) That bade me pause before that garden-gate, To breathe the incense of those slumbering roses?
They lived in Troy, New York, were well-to-do, respectable persons, and had many friends, some of whom, reading these lines, will doubtless learn for the first time the extraordinary
fate of the young man.