To Be Blind Is Not

Peace Hath Her Victories, No Less Renowned Than War.

O Welcome Pure-eyed Faith, White Handed Hope, Thou Hovering Angel Girt With Golden Wings.

Deep Vers'd In Books, And Shallow In Himself.

The Virtuous Mind That Ever Walks Attended By A Strong Siding Champion, Conscience.

Such Bickerings To Recount, Met Often In These Our Writers, What More Worth Is It Than To Chronicle The Wars Of Kites Or Crows Flocking And Fighting In The Air?