The Strongest And The Fiercest

Anon Out Of The Earth A Fabric Huge Rose, Like An Exhalation.

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

Then Might Ye See Cowls, Hoods, And Habits With Their Wearers Tost And Flutter'd Into Rags; Then Reliques, Beads, Indulgences, Dispenses, Pardons, Bulls, The Sport Of Winds; All These Upwhirl'd Aloft Fly To The Rearward Of The World Far Off Into A Limbo Large And Broad, Since Called The Paradise Of Fools.

Wisdom's Self Oft Seeks To Sweet Retired Solitude, Where With Her Best Nurse Contemplation, She Plumes Her Feathers, And Lets Grow Her Wings That In The Various Bustle Of Resort Were All To-ruffled, And Sometimes Impaired.

Indu'd With Sanctity Of Reason.