And To The Faithful: Death, The Gate

Therefore, If At Great Things Thou Wouldst Arrive, Get Riches First, Get Wealth.

But Oh The Heavy Change, Now Thou Art Gone, Now Thou Art Gone And Never Must Return!

The Nodding Horror Of Whose Shady Brows Threats The Forlorn And Wandering Passenger.

Tis Chastity, My Brother, Chastity; She That Has That Is Clad In Complete Steel, And, Like A Quiver'd Nymph With Arrows Keen, May Trace Huge Forests, And Unharbour'd Heaths, Infamous Hills, And Sandy Perilous Wilds; Where, Through The Sacred Rays Of Chastity, No Savage Fierce, Bandite, Or Mountaineer, Will Dare To Soil Her Virgin Purity.

To Many A Youth And Many A Maid, Dancing In The Chequer'd Shade.