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CH'Denys of Panchea
Since from thee going
Then can no horse
Thus can my love
excuse the slow offence
with my desire keep pace
Of my dull bearer
when from thee I speed
No 51 Failure
Towards thee I'll run
Shall neigh no dull flesh
Oh what excuse will my
poor beast then find
in his fiery race
When swift extremity
can seem but slow
and give him leave to go
But love for love
Then should I spur
though mounted on the wind
thus shall excuse my jade
In winged speed
no motion shall I know
