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The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow'r,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
Awaits alike the inevitable hour:
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Her track, where'er the goddess roves,
Glory pursue, and gen'rous shame,
Th' unconquerable mind, 3 and freedom's holy flame.
In glittering arms and glory dressed,
High he rears his ruby crest.
There the thundering strokes begin,
There the press and there the din;
Talymalfra's rocky shore
Echoing to the battle's roar.
Visions of glory, spare my aching sight,
Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul!
Quote of the day
Men grow to the stature to which they are stretched when they are young.
December 26, 1716
July 30, 1771
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