No more, that lights them to their purposes.

They wander loose about; they nothing see,

Themselves except, and creatures like themselves,

Short-lived, short-sighted, impotent to save.

So on their dissolute spirits, soon or late,

Destruction cometh, like an armed man,

Or like a dream of murder in the night,

Withering their mortal faculties, and breaking

The bones of all their pride.

Charles Lamb.