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" Some men with swords may reap the field, And plant fresh laurels where they kill: But their strong nerves at last must yield; They tame but one another still: Early or late They stoop to fate, And must give up their murmuring breath, When they, pale captives,... "
The Englishman's fire-side - Сторінка 72
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Literary Companion to the Lectionary: A Poetic Gathering to Accompany the ...

Mark Pryce - 2001 - 160 стор.
...stoop to fate, And must give up their murmuring breath When they, pale captives, creep to death. 114 Then boast no more your mighty deeds! Upon Death's purple altar now See where the victor-victim bleeds. Your heads must come To the cold tomb: Only the actions of the just Smell sweet...
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Awatere: A Soldier's Story

Arapeta Awatere - 2003 - 498 стор.
...or late They stoop to fate, And must give up their murmuring breath When they, pale captives, creep to death. The garlands wither on your brow: Then boast...deeds; Upon Death's purple altar now See where the victor-victim bleeds: Your head must come To the cold tomb; Only the actions of the just Smell sweet...
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Bartlett's Poems for Occasions

Geoffrey O'Brien, Billy Collins - 2007 - 544 стор.
...must give up their murmurming breath, IN TIME When they, pale captives, creep to death. OF WAR \42i The garlands wither on your brow, Then boast no more...deeds; Upon Death's purple altar now See where the victor-victim bleeds: Your heads must come To the cold tomb; Only the actions of the just Smell sweet...
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Songs of Ourselves

Cambridge International Examinations - 2005 - 265 стор.
...Early or late They stoop to fate. And must give up the murmuring breath When they, pale captives, creep to death. The garlands wither on your brow; Then boast...deeds; Upon Death's purple altar now See where the victor-victim bleeds. Your heads must come To the cold tomb; Only the actions of the just Smell sweet,...
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The Book of English Songs: From the Sixteenth to the Nineteenth Century

Charles Mackay - 1851 - 320 стор.
...or late They stoop to fate, And must give up their murmuring breath, When they, pale captives, creep to^ death. The garlands wither on your brow — Then...deeds; Upon death's purple altar now, See where the victor-victim bleeds: All heads must come To the cold tomb: Only the actions of the just Smell sweet,...
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