For In The Voyage Of The Heart,

Be It Mine To Draw From Wisdom's Fount, Pure As It Flows, That Calm Of Soul Which Virtue Only Knows.

No One Can Count The Terrors That The Earth Spawns, Catastrophic, Gruesome, And The Vast Arms Of The Sea Swarm With Brute Monsters Bent On Harm, And Everywhere Between The Sky And Ground Lights Bloom By Day In Flares And Sudden Bolts; And Birds And Beasts Alike Can Tell Of The Whirlwind's Whirling Wrath.

God Lends A Helping Hand To The Man Who Tries Hard.

They Sent Forth Men To Battle, But No Such Men Return; And Home, To Claim Their Welcome, Come Ashes In An Urn

For The Lips Of Zeus Do Not Know How To Lie, But Bring To Fulfilment Every Word.