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See that huge battle moving from the mountains! Their gilt coats shine like dragon's scales, their march Like a rough tumbling storm; see them, and view
them, And then see Rome no more. Say they fail, look, Look where the armed cars stand; a new army! Look, how they hang like falling rocks! as murdering Death rides in triumph, Drusius, fell destruction Lashes his fiery horse, and round about him His many thousand ways to let out souls.
Beaumont and Fletcher.
Hark! the death-denouncing trumpet sounds
When Greeks join’d Greeks, then was the tug of war;
The laboured battle sweat, and conquest bled.
But when all is past, it is humbling to tread
Battle's magnificently stern array.
By torch and trumpet fast arrayed,
To join the dreadful revelry.
Far flashed the red artillery. Campbell.
Empires and kings, how oft have temples rung,
With impious thanksgiving, the Almighty's scorn! How oft above their altars have been hung,
Trophies that led the good and wise to mourn;
Triumphant wrong, battle of battle born, And sorrow that to fruitless sorrow clung!
So passes man,
Spirit of light and life! when battle rears
Even like an arrow on the wind he rode
Sir A. Hunt.
And when the cannon-mouthings loud,
J. R. Drake.
The shudders, the shocks!
Come clashing like rocks!
The clouds are half fire;
Like the threads of a lyre!
And each bullet a knell;
THEY wish to live, Their pains and poverty desire to bear, To view the light of heaven, and breathe the common air.
Dryden. Cease thy care; Wise is the soul; but man is born to bear: Jove weighs affairs of earth in dubious scales, And the good suffers while the bad prevails. Pope.
Where vice prevails, and impious men bear sway,
* * * * * *
Revolve in one sure track,
And virtue flown, come back;
Woe to the purblind crew who fill
The heart with each day's care, Nor gain from past and future still
To bear and to forbear.
Man's best philosophy-life's purest creed
Christian as Epictetic is:—to bear
With that which we desire; to bound our prayer To heaven's good pleasure; make the word and deed
Our heart's true mirror; in our breast to wear Bravely our badge; and if at last we leave Some trait worth name, what more could man achieve?
Dr. W. Beattie.
Think every bearded fellow that’s but yoked
Milton. Old prophecies foretell our fall at hand, When bearded men in floating castles land.
Dryden. Some thin remains of chastity appeared, Even under Jove, but Jove without a beard.
Dryden. Ere on thy chin the springing beard began To spread a doubtful down, and promise man.
Prior. It has no bush below; Marry a little wool, as much as an unripe Peach doth wear: Just enough to speak him drawing towards a man.
Suckling. BEARD. BEAUTY.
His tawny beard was th' equal grace
His beard is directly brick-colour,
Nought under heaven so strongly doth allure
For beauty is the bait which, with delight,