Tame not that hot beast of thy heart, my Love,

But leash it as every commoner

Fears.  Do mock the expectations of Sky,

For in thy blood plays the throb of the Lion.

Enter that world Holden never tasted,

But presume not that thou art a born sage.

Weigh thy noble humility at dawn,

And the commodities thou shalt soon trade.

Train and feed thy golden crown of burlesque,

To defeat them and us, the foolish caste,

To defend the force of law, with fair wit,

And, to meal these souls their essence of sound.

Blessed art thou, Caulfield of Capital,

Beneficiary of wealth and justice,

The winner of my heart, whose spirit none

Can be worthy of exchange but for thee.

Thus have the steel’d courage henceforth, my Love,

Seal this journey as heaven directs thee,

Construe the times of the Lion’s youth and age,

And let this world try thy mettle, thy Love.