NO ARMOR AGAINST FATE.
(By James Shirley.) The glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things; There is no armour against fate; Death lays his icy hands on kings. .Scepter and crown Must tumble down. And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
Some men witli .swords may reap the field, And olant fresh laurels where they kill; But their strong nerves at last must yield* Early 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 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 and blossom in their, dust.
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Wairarapa Age, Volume XXV, Issue 10713, 2 December 1913, Page 6
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140NO ARMOR AGAINST FATE. Wairarapa Age, Volume XXV, Issue 10713, 2 December 1913, Page 6
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