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* I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word, Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres, Thy knotted and combined locks to part, And each particular hair to stand on end, Like quills upon the fretful porcupine. But this. eternal blazon must not be, To ears of flesh and blood. List, list, O list.”
Shakespeare. “ Farewell to cruelty, pain and blood, Farewell to the habits of Tigerhood. Return to the dream of Paradise days, To songs of love and to garden lays.. Forget the evil ways of our West, The feasts of blood which make Europe unblest,, Let sympathy find a home in the breast, And in patience and labour and love find rest."
