This the true sign of ruin to a race—
  It undertakes no march, and day by day
Drowses in camp, or, with the laggard’s pace,
  Walks sentry o’er possessions that decay;
  Destined, with sensible waste, to fleet away;—
For the first secret of continued power
  Is the continued conquest;—all our sway
Hath surety in the uses of the hour;...