Pure Friendship's Well-feigned Blush.

My Days Are In The Yellow Leaf; The Flowers And Fruits Of Love Are Gone; The Worm, The Canker, And The Grief, Are Mine Alone!

For Pleasures Past I Do Not Grieve, Nor Perils Gathering Near; My Greatest Grief Is That I Leave Nothing That Claims A Tear.

Then Farewell, Horace; Whom I Hated So, Not For Thy Faults, But Mine.

There Is Something Pagan In Me That I Cannot Shake Off. In Short, I Deny Nothing, But Doubt Everything.

He Learned The Arts Of Riding, Fencing, Gunnery, And How To Scale A Fortress - Or A Nunnery.