When love could teach a monarch to be wise, And gospel-light first dawn'd from Bullen's eyes.

Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray; Along the cool sequester'd vale of life They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.

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.

When love could teach a monarch to be wise, And gospel-light first dawn'd from Bullen's eyes.

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.

The paths of glory lead but to the grave.

Youth smiles without any reason. It is one of its chiefest charms.