Servants, When Their Lords No Longer Sway,

't Is Fortune Gives Us Birth, But Jove Alone Endues The Soul With Worth.

Now From The Smooth Deep Ocean-stream The Sun Began To Climb The Heavens, And With New Rays Smote The Surrounding Fields.

And Now I'm Using Sarcasm, To Confess The Whole Thing So Later I Could Say I Already Told You.

Miserable Mortals Who Like Leaves At One Moment Flame With Life Eating The Produce Of The Land And At Another Moment Weakly Perish.

...he'll Never Lie - The Man Is Far Too Wise.