For A Man To Become A Poet

He Learned The Arts Of Riding, Fencing, Gunnery, And How To Scale A Fortress - Or A Nunnery.

Though I Love My Country, I Do Not Love My Countrymen.

It Is Very Iniquitous To Make Me Pay My Debts - You Have No Idea Of The Pain It Gives One.

So Do The Dark In Soul Expire, Or Live Like Scorpion Girt By Fire; So Writhes The Mind Remorse Hath Riven, Unfit For Earth, Undoom'd For Heaven, Darkness Above, Despair Beneath, Around It Flame, Within It Death.

Fare Thee Well, And If For Ever Still For Ever Fare Thee Well.