Therefore beauty is the true monument and spoil of the victory of the soul, when she with heavenly influence beareth rule over material and gross nature, and with her light overcometh the darkness of the body.

And therefore is the outward beauty a true sign of the inward goodness, and in bodies this comeliness is imprinted, more and less, as it were, for a mark of the soul, whereby she is outwardly known; as in trees, in which the beauty of the buds giveth a testimony of the goodness of the fruit.

They sing the song to celebrate their victory. Singing it would amount to selling my soul.

Then should some cloud pass over The brow of sire or lover, Think 'tis the shade By Victory made Whose wings right o'er us hover!

Victory has a hundred fathers, but defeat is an orphan.

Out spoke the victor then, As he hail'd them o'er the wave, Ye are brothers! ye are men! And we conquer but to save; So peace instead of death let us bring; But yield, proud foe, let us bring; With the crews, at England's feet, And make submission meet To our King.