Pride - Lord Of Human

Fattened In Vice, So Callous And So Gross, He Sins And Sees Not, Senseless Of His Loss.

He Who Trusts A Secret To His Servant Makes His Own Man His Master.

For Secrets Are Edged Tools, And Must Be Kept From Children And From Fools.

The Jews, A Headstrong, Moody, Murmuring Race.

What I Have Left Is From My Native Spring; I've Still A Heart That Swells, In Scorn Of Fate, And Lifts Me To My Banks.