He mourns the dead who lives as they desire.
Tomorrow is the day when idlers work, and fools reform and mortal men lay hold on heaven.
One to destroy, is murder by the law; and gibbets keep the lifted hand in awe; to murder thousands, takes a specious name, 'War's glorious art', and gives immortal fame.
As night to stars, woe lustre gives to man.
Man wants little, nor that little long.
Like our shadows, our wishes lengthen as our sun declines.