On Wings Of Wind Came Flying All

Vices And Virtues Are Of A Strange Nature, For The More We Have, The Fewer We Think We Have.

Praise Undeserved, Is Satire In Disguise.

Whoe'er He Be That Tells My Faults, I Hate Him Mortally.

Then Sculpture And Her Sister Arts Revived; Stones Leaped To Form, And Rocks Began To Live.

For Forms Of Faith Let Graceless Zealots Fight; His Can't Be Wrong Whose Life Is In The Right.