[i]"...with joy I see
The diff'rent dooms our fates assign.
Be thine despair, and scept'red care,
To triumph, and to die, are mine."
He spoke, and headlong from the mountain's height
Deep in the roaring tide he plunged to endless night."[/i]

[i]----"The Bard" poem by Thomas Gray (1757)[/i]