On Rumor's Tongue Continual Slanders

My Crown Is Called Content, A Crown That Seldom Kings Enjoy.

Come, Go With Us, Speak Fair; You May Salve So, Not What Is Dangerous Present, But The Los Of What Is Past.

Let Not Our Babbling Dreams Affright Our Souls; Conscience Is But A Work That Cowards Use, Devised At First To Keep The Strong In Awe: Our Strong Arms Be Our Conscience, Swords Our Law!

Love Sees With The Heart And Not With Mind.

Thus Is His Cheek The Map Of Days Outworn.