O son, thou hast not true humility, The highest virtue, mother of them all; But her thou hast not know; for what is this? Thou thoughtest of thy prowess and thy sins Thou hast not lost thyself to save thyself.

O last regret, regret can die!

Oh for someone with a heart, head and hand. Whatever they call them, what do I care, aristocrat, democrat, autocrat, just be it one that can rule and dare not lie.

I found Him in the shining of the stars.

Dreams are true while they last, and do we not live in dreams?

But the tender grace of a day that is dead Will never come back to me.

His honour rooted in dishonour stood, And faith unfaithful kept him falsely true.