The Hearts Of Great Men Can Be

The Windy Satisfaction Of The Tongue.

In Saffron-colored Mantle From The Tides Of Oceans Rose The Morning To Bright Light To Gods And Men.

The Lot Of Man-to Suffer And Die.

I Should Rather Labor As Another's Serf, In The Home Of A Man Without Fortune, One Whose Livelihood Was Meager, Than Rule Over All The Departed Dead.

I Too Shall Lie In The Dust When I Am Dead, But Now Let Me Win Noble Renown.