The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow'r, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, Awaits alike th' inevitable hour. The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Men will believe anything at all provided they are under no obligation to believe it.
Where ignorance is bliss, 'Tis folly to be wise.
Visions of glory, spare my aching sight! Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul!
To brisk notes in cadence beating, glance their many-twinkling feet.
The time will come, when thou shalt lift thine eyes To watch a long-drawn battle in the skies. While aged peasants, too amazed for words, Stare at the flying fleets of wondrous birds.