Evelyn-White 1914, eng239-246 I would not have you be deathless among the deathless gods and live continually after such sort. Yet if you could live on such as now you are in look and in form, and be called my husband, sorrow would not then enfold my careful heart. But, as it is, harsh old age will soon enshroud you--ruthless age which stands someday at the side of every man, deadly, wearying, dreaded even by the gods.