Neither Our Vices Nor Our Virtues Further

Our Pleasance Here Is All Vain Glory, This False Warld Is But Transitory.

I That In Heill Wes And Gladnes Am Trublit Now With Gret Seiknes And Feblit With Infermite: Timor Mortis Conturbat Me.* * Fear Of Death Troubles Me.

Noble Men In The Quiet Of Morning Hear Indians Singing The Continent's Violent Requiem.

Scotsmen Are Metaphisical And Emotional, They Are Sceptical And Mystical, They Are Romantic And Ironic, They Are Cruel And Tender, And Full Of Mirth And Despair.

All Love Is Lost But Upon God Alone.