Have hung My dank and dropping weeds To the stern god of sea.

God is thy law, thou mine: to know no more Is woman's happiest knowledge and her praise. With thee conversing I forget all time.

Thus Belial, with words clothed in reason's garb, counseled ignoble ease, and peaceful sloth, not peace.

And to the faithful: death, the gate of life.

For books are as meats and viands are; some of good, some of evil sub-stance.

God is thy law, thou mine.

Praise from an enemy smells of craft.