The
blood turns in my veins; I stand on change,
And shall dissolve in changing: 'tis so full
Of pleasure not to be contain'd in flesh:
To fear a violent good, abuseth goodness,
'Tis immortality to die aspiring,
As if a man were taken quick to heaven;
What will not hold perfection, let it burst;
What force hath any cannon, not being charg'd,
Or being discharg'd?
(George Chapman, Byron's Conspiracy, I.ii
27-35)
—oOo—
