The Stars Never Lie, But The Astrologers

We Battle On In Words, As Always, Mere Words, And What's The Cure? We Cannot Find A Thing.

O Friends, Be Men, And Let Your Hearts Be Strong And Let No Warrior In The Heat Of Fight, Do What May Bring Him Shame In Others' Eyes

And His Good Wife Will Tear Her Cheeks In Grief, His Sons Are Orphans And He, Soaking The Soil Red With His Own Blood, He Rots Away Himself-more Birds Than Women Flocking Round His Body!

So Peaceful Shalt Thou End Thy Blissful Days, And Steal Thyself From Life By Slow Decays.

Whoever Among Men Who Walk The Earth Has Seen These Mysteries Is Blessed, But Whoever In Uninitiated And Has Not Received His Share Of The Rite, He Will Not Have The Same Lot As The Others, Once He Is Dead And Dwells In The Mould Where The Sun Goes Down.