“Sweet are the ways of death to weary feet,  Calm are the shades of men.The phantom fears no tyrant in his seat,  The slave is master then.{{pb}}Love is abolish’d; well, that this is so;  We knew him best as Pain.The gods are all cast out, and let them go!  Who ever found them gain?{{pb}}Ready to hurt and slow to succour these;  So, while thou breathest, pray.But in the sepulchre all flesh has peace;  Their hand is put away.”