Never To Be Cast Away Are The

The Leader, Mingling With The Vulgar Host, Is In The Common Mass Of Matter Lost.

The Melancholy Joys Of Evils Pass'd, For He Who Much Has Suffer'd, Much Will Know.

...if Fifty Bands Of Men Surrounded Us/ And Every Sword Sang For Your Blood,/ You Could Make Off Still With Their Cows And Sheep.

And Here I Am Using My Own Lungs Like A Sucker.

[b]ut It Is Only What Happens, When They Die, To All Mortals. The Sinews No Longer Hold The Flesh And The Bones Together, And Once The Spirit Has Let The White Bones, All The Rest Of The Body Is Made Subject To The Fire's Strong Fury, But The Soul Flitters Out Like A Dream And Flies Away.