Love denied blights the soul we owe to God.
But thought's the slave of life, and life time's fool.
Sound trumpets! Let our bloody colours wave! And either victory, or else a grave.
The wheel is come full circle.
I am in blood Stepp'd in so far, that, should I wade no more, Returning were as tedious as go o'er.
Now I will believe that there are unicorns.