Nor Does Night Conceal Men's Deeds Of

Base Men Who Prosper Are Unenviable.

The Gods At Will Can Shape A Gladder Strain, And From The Lamentations At The Graveside, A Song Of Triumph May Arise.

We Must Pronounce Him Fortunate Who Has Ended His Life In Fair Prosperity.

The Moving Light, Rejoicing In Its Strength, Sped From The Pyre Of Pine, And Urged Its Way, In Golden Glory, Like Some Strange New Sun.

For A Murderous Blow Let Murderous Blow Atone.