Phoebus replied, and touched my trembling ears:

‘Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil,

Nor in the glistering foil

Set off to the world, nor in broad rumor lies;

But lives and spreads aloft by those pure eyes,

And perfect witness of all-judging Jove:

As he pronounces lastly on each deed,

Of so much fame in heaven expect thy meed.’ ”