They most the world enjoy who least admire.
And can eternity belong to me, Poor pensioner on the bounties of an hour?
The blood will follow where the knife is driven, The flesh will quiver where the pincers tear.
A tardy vengeance shares the tyrant's guilt.
What tender force, what dignity divine, what virtue consecrating every feature; around that neck what dross are gold and pearl!
Thy purpose firm is equal to the deed: Who does the best his circumstance allows Does well, acts nobly; angels could no more.