The Eagle Suffers Little Birds To Sing.

Who Is So Firm That Can't Be Seduced?

To Whom God Will, There Be The Victory.

Downy Sleep, Death's Counterfeit.

If I May Trust The Flattering Truth Of Sleep, My Dreams Presage Some Joyful News At Hand. My Bosom's Lord Sits Lightly In His Throne, And All This Day An Unaccustomed Spirit Lifts Me Above The Ground With Cheerful Thoughts.

My Purpose Is, Indeed, A Horse Of That Color.