My Long Sickness Of Health And Living

The Clamorous Owl That Nightly Hoots And Wonders At Our Quaint Spirits.

Having My Freedom, Boast Of Nothing Else.

It Is War's Prize To Take All Vantages; And Ten To One Is No Impeach Of Valor.

What Ugly Sights Of Death Within Mine Eyes!

Steed Threatens Steed, In High And Boastful Neighs Piercing The Night's Dull Ear; And From The Tents The Armorers Accomplishing The Knights, With Busy Hammers Closing Rivets Up, Give Dreadful Note Of Preparation.