But he whose inborn worth his acts commend, Of gentle soul, to human race a friend.
The leader, mingling with the vulgar host, Is in the common mass of matter lost.
Whoever among men who walk the Earth has seen these Mysteries is blessed, but whoever in uninitiated and has not received his share of the rite, he will not have the same lot as the others, once he is dead and dwells in the mould where the sun goes down.
A glorious death is his, who for his country falls.
If you serve too many masters, you'll soon suffer.
Words empty as the wind are best left unsaid.