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Be thine Despair , and sceptred Cáre ; • To triumph , and to die , are mine . ' He
spoke , and headlong , from the mountain ' s height , Deep in the roaring tide he
plung ' d to endless night . THE THE FAT AL SISTERS . AN O D E . A PINDARIC ...
( Weave the crimson web of war , ) Let us go , and let us fly , Where our friends
the conflict share , Where they triumph , where they die . As the paths of fate we
tread , Wading thro ' th ' ensanguin ' d field , Gondula , and Geira , spread O ' er
Songs of joy and triumph fing ; Joy to the victorious bands ; Triumph to the
younger King . Mortal , thou that hear ' st the tale , Learn the tenour of our song .
Scotland , thro ' each winding vale , Far and wide the notes prolong . Sisters ,
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I can remember my mother reciting Elegy written in a country church-yard - not all of it though. This poem seemed to mean a lot to her. She never reached the line: 'The path of glory leads but to the grave'. レビュー全文を読む