And seem to walk on wings, and tread in air.
Hope travels through, nor quits us when we die.
The hungry judges soon the sentence sign, and wretches hang that jurymen may dine.
Ask you what provocation I have had? The strong antipathy of good to bad.
How happy is the blameless vestal's lot? The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Though triumphs were to generals only due, crowns were reserved to grace the soldiers too.