And She's Fair I Love.

Melancholy Is The Nurse Of Frenzy.

It Will Have Blood, They Say; Blood Will Have Blood.

No Evil Lost Is Wailed When It Is Gone.

We Must Love Men, Ere To Us They Will Seem Worthy Of Our Love.

I Can Again Thy Former Light Restore, Should I Repent Me: But Once Put Out Thy Light, Thou Cunning'st Pattern Of Excelling Nature, I Know Not Where Is That Promethean Heat That Can Thy Light Relume.