Beyond Is All Abyss, Eternity,

Nothing Is Here For Tears, Nothing To Wail Or Knock The Breast, No Weakness, No Contempt, Dispraise, Or Blame,-nothing But Well And Fair, And What May Quiet Us In A Death So Noble.

And To The Faithful: Death, The Gate Of Life.

With Cowslips Wan That Hang The Pensive Head, And Every Flower That Sad Embroidery Wears.

Who Shall Silence All The Airs And Madrigals That Whisper Softness In Chambers?

Anarchy Is The Sure Consequence Of Tyranny; For No Power That Is Not Limited By Laws Can Ever Be Protected By Them.