And Death, the Sovereign’s Sovereign, though the great
Gracchus of all mortality, who levels,
With his Agrarian laws, the high estate
Of him who feasts, and fights, and roars, and revels,
To one small grass-grown patch (which must await
Corruption for its crop) with the poor devils
Who never had a foot of land till now—
Death’s a reformer—all men must allow.