The King's Name Is A Tower Of

Passion Lends Them Power, Time Means To Meet, Tempering Extremities With Extremes Sweet.

I Am Not Merry, But I Do Beguile The Thing I Am By Seeming Otherwise.

The Gray-eyed Morn Smiles On The Frowning Night, Checkering The Eastern Clouds With Streaks Of Light.

If I May Trust The Flattering Truth Of Sleep, My Dreams Presage Some Joyful News At Hand. My Bosom's Lord Sits Lightly In His Throne, And All This Day An Unaccustomed Spirit Lifts Me Above The Ground With Cheerful Thoughts.

The Whirligig Of Time Brings In His Revenges.