In Vain Doth Valour Bleed, While Avarice

He Who Destroys A Good Book Kills Reason Itself.

Who, As They Sung, Would Take The Prison'd Soul And Lap It In Elysium.

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

For Men To Tell How Human Life Began Is Hard; For Who Himself Beginning Knew?

Mutual Love, The Crown Of All Our Bliss.