The Devil Hath Power To Assume A

We All Are Men, In Our Own Natures Frail, And Capable Of Our Flesh; Few Are Angels.

How Sweet The Moonlight Sleeps Upon This Bank Here We Will Sit, And Let The Sounds Of Music Creep In Our Ears; Soft Stillness, And The Night Become The Touches Of Sweet Harmony

Devils Soonest Tempt, Resembling Spirits Of Light.

There Is No Such Sport As Sport By Sport O'erthrown.

Bondage Is Hoarse, And May Not Speak Aloud.