Some Innocents 'scape Not The Thunderbolt.

Our Holy Lives Must Win A New World's Crown.

Music, Moody Food Of Us That Trade In Love.

Oppose Not Rage While Rage Is In Its Force, But Give It Way A While And Let It Waste.

Let Fame, That All Hunt After In Their Lives, Live Regist'red Upon Our Brazen Tombs And Then Grace Us In The Disgrace Of Death; When, Spite Of Cormorant Devouring Time, Th' Endeavor Of This Present Breath May Buy That Honor Which Shall Bate His Scythe's Keen Edge And Make Us Heirs Of All Eternity.

Thus Can The Demigod Authority Make Us Pay Down For Our Offense By Weight The Words Of Heaven; On Whom It Will, It Will, On Whom It Will Not, So: Yet Still 'tis Just.