I On The Other Side

Arms On Armour Clashing Bray'd Horrible Discord, And The Madding Wheels Of Brazen Chariots Rag'd: Dire Was The Noise Of Conflict.

His Sleep Was Aery Light, From Pure Digestion Bred.

Time Will Run Back And Fetch The Age Of Gold.

Luck Is The Residue Of Design.

With Diadem And Sceptre High Advanced, The Lower Still I Fall; Only Supreme In Misery; Such Joy Ambition Finds.