The Sorcerer calls them forth with rites obscene.”
“Who knows not leisure to enjoy,
Toils more than those whom toils employ;
For they who toil with purposed end,
Mid all their labours pleasure blend—
But they whose time no labours fill,
Have in their minds nor wish nor will:
’Tis so with us, called far from home,
Nor yet to fields of battle come—
We hither haste, then thither go,