The Peace Of Heaven Is Theirs That

It Is To Be All Made Of Fantasy, All Made Of Passion And All Made Of Wishes, All Adoration, Duty, And Observance, All Humbleness, All Patience And Impatience, All Purity, All Trial, All Observance

They Whose Guilt Within Their Bosom Lies, Imagine Every Eye Beholds Their Blame.

Weep Not, Sweet Queen, For Trickling Tears Are Vain.

Cowards Die Many Times Before Their Deaths; The Valiant Never Taste Of Death But Once. Of All The Wonders That I Yet Have Heard, It Seems To Me Most Strange That Men Should Fear; Seeing That Death, A Necessary End, Will Come When It Will Come.

And Flights Of Angels Sing Thee To Thy Rest!