To Saucy Doubts And Fears.

Before Thee Stands This Fair Hesperides, With Golden Fruit, But Dangerous To Be Touched; For Death-like Dragons Here Affright Thee Hard.

Yon Grey Lines That Fret The Clouds Are Messengers Of Day.

Our Jovial Star Reigned At His Birth.

Glory Is Like A Circle In The Water

You Have But Mistook Me All The While... I Live By Bread Like You, Taste Grief, Feel Want, Need Friends. Conditioned Thus How Can You Call Me King?