Dreams Are Sent By God.

Insignificant Mortals, Who Are As Leaves Are, And Now Flourish And Grow Warm With Life, And Feed On What The Ground Gives, But Then Again Fade Away And Are Dead.

...if Fifty Bands Of Men Surrounded Us/ And Every Sword Sang For Your Blood,/ You Could Make Off Still With Their Cows And Sheep.

Sweet Sleep Fell Upon His Eyelids, Unwakeful, Most Pleasant, The Nearest Like Death.

Noble And Manly Music Invigorates The Spirit, Strengthens The Wavering Man, And Incites Him To Great And Worthy Deeds.

Take Thou Thy Arms And Come With Me, For We Must Quit Ourselves Like Men, And Strive To Air Our Cause, Although We Be But Two. Great Is The Strength Of Feeble Arms Combined, And We Can Combat Even With The Brave.