Then Wilt Thou Not Be

He 's Gone, And Who Knows How He May Report Thy Words By Adding Fuel To The Flame?

Tower'd Cities Please Us Then, And The Busy Hum Of Men.

From That High Mount Of God Whence Light And Shade Spring Both, The Face Of Brightest Heaven Had Changed To Grateful Twilight.

Let No Man Seek Henceforth To Be Foretold That Shall Befall Him Or His Children.

I Hate When Vice Can Bolt Her Arguments, And Virtue Has No Tongue To Check Her Pride.