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Profan'd the God-given strength, and marr'd the lofty line.
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Although too much of a soldier among sovereigns, no one could claim with better right to be a sovereign among soldiers.
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Thy hue, dear pledge, is pure and brightAs in that well-remember'd nightWhen first thy mystic braid was wove,And first my Agnes whisper'd love.
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But search the land of living men,Where wilt thou find their like again?
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Woman's faith and woman's trust,Write the characters in dust.
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Spangling the wave with lights as vainAs pleasures in the vale of pain,That dazzle as they fade.
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A miss is as good as a mile.
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No pale gradations quench his ray,No twilight dews his wrath allay.