These Evils I Deserve, And More .

Wickedness Is Weakness.

Then Might Ye See Cowls, Hoods, And Habits With Their Wearers Tost And Flutter'd Into Rags; Then Reliques, Beads, Indulgences, Dispenses, Pardons, Bulls, The Sport Of Winds; All These Upwhirl'd Aloft Fly To The Rearward Of The World Far Off Into A Limbo Large And Broad, Since Called The Paradise Of Fools.

And Feel That I Am Happier Than I Know.

Hope Allows Us To Bid Farewell To Fear.

Can Any Mortal Mixture Of Earth's Mould Breathe Such Divine Enchanting Ravishment?