Yet smelt roast meat, beheld a huge fire shine, And cooks in motion with their clean arms bared.

My native land, good night!

This is the patent age of new inventions for killing bodies, and for saving souls. All propagated with the best intentions.

Know ye not who would be free themselves must strike the blow? by their right arms the conquest must be wrought?

Oh! might I kiss those eyes of fire, A million scarce would quench desire; Still would I steep my lips in bliss, And dwell an age on every kiss; Nor then my soul should sated be, Still would I kiss and cling to thee: Nought should my kiss from thine dissever, Still would we kiss and kiss for ever; E'en though the numbers did exceed The yellow harvest's countless seed; To part would be a vain endeavour: Could I desist? -ah! never-never.

Eat, drink and love...the rest is not worth a nickel

Sweet is revenge-especially to women.