Midnight Shout And Revelry, Tipsy Dance And

A Dungeon Horrible, On All Sides Round, As One Great Furnace, Flamed; Yet From Those Flames No Light, But Rather Darkness Visible Serv'd Only To Discover Sights Of Woe, Regions Of Sorrow, Doleful Shades, Where Peace And Rest Can Never Dwell, Hope Never Comes That Comes To All; But Torture Without End.

They Eat, They Drink, And In Communion Sweet Quaff Immortality And Joy.

And To Thy Husband's Will Thine Shall Submit; He Over Thee Shall Rule.

Capricious, Wanton, Bold, And Brutal Lust Is Meanly Selfish; When Resisted, Cruel; And, Like The Blast Of Pestilential Winds, Taints The Sweet Bloom Of Nature's Fairest Forms.

For What Can War, But Endless War, Still Breed?