Inviolable stupor of his reign,
Where Lust, and turbulent Ambition, sleep,
Death took swift vengeance. As he life detests,
More life is still more odious; and, reduced
By conquest, aggrandizes more his power. 803
But wherefore aggrandized? By Heaven’s decree,
To plant the soul on her eternal guard,
In awful expectation of our end.
Thus runs Death’s dread commission: “Strike, but so
As most alarms the living by the dead.”