My Dear, Be A Good Man Be

Art Thou A Friend To Roderick?

We Often Praise The Evening Clouds, And Tints So Gay And Bold, But Seldom Think Upon Our God, Who Tinged These Clouds With Gold.

Here Is Neither Want Of Appetite Nor Mouths, Pray Heaven We Be Not Scant Of Meat Or Mirth.

Alas!... What Is It, Valiant Knight, Save An Offering Of Sacrifice To A Demon Of Vain Glory, And A Passing Through The Fire Of Moloch? What Remains To You As A Prize Of All The Blood You Have Spilled, Of All The Travail And Pain You Have Endured, Of All The Tears Which Your Deeds Have Caused, When Death Hath Broken The Strong Man's Spear, And Overtaken The Speed Of His War-horse?

Welcome As The Flowers In May.