Soldier, Rest! Thy Warfare O'er.

The Lover's Pleasure, Like That Of The Hunter, Is In The Chase, And The Brightest Beauty Loses Half Its Merit, As The Flower Its Perfume, When The Willing Hand Can Reach It Too Easily. There Must Be Doubt; There Must Be Difficulty And Danger.

It Is Only When I Dally With What I Am About, Look Back And Aside, Instead Of Keeping My Eyes Straight Forward, That I Feel These Cold Sinkings Of The Heart.

Ambition Is No Cure For Love!

Who O'er The Herd Would Wish To Reign, Fantastic, Fickle, Fierce, And Vain! Vain As The Leaf Upon The Stream, And Fickle As A Changeful Dream; Fantastic As A Woman's Mood, And Fierce As Frenzy's Fever'd Blood. Thou Many-headed Monster Thing, Oh Who Would Wish To Be Thy King!

He Hath A Share Of Man's Intelligence, But No Share Of Man's Falsehood.