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" ... 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, creep to death.... "
The Worcester Magazine and Historical Journal - Page 128
1826
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The officer's daughter: a memoir of miss Elizabeth Tatton. To which are ...

Octavius Winslow - 1848 - 143 pages
...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...
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The British Millennial Harbinger and Family Magazine, Volume 1

1848
...conquering 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 ! All heads must come To the cold tomb; Only the actions nf the just Smell street...
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Cyclopaedia of English Literature: A Selection of the Choicest ..., Volume 1

Robert Chambers - 1849
...captives, creep to death. The garlands wither on your brow, Then boast no more your mighty deeds ; I — n's sister might beseem ; Or that & ʭ 0 ~ ң 7 [ "I 1849 G tomb, Only the actions of the just \ Smell sweet and blossom in the dust. ^ upon hit Mittras Sad. Melancholy,...
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The Sacred Poets of England and America: For Three Centuries

Rufus Wilmot Griswold - 1849 - 552 pages
...murm'ring 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 ; All hands must come To the cold tomb, Only the actions of the just, Smell sweet and blossom in the dust....
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Hymns for the Sanctuary

West Church (Boston, Mass.) - 1849 - 520 pages
...with the small, Sceptre and crown with scythe and spade. 3 The laurel withers on our brow ; Then boast no more your mighty deeds : Upon death's purple altar now See where the victor victim bleeds ! 4 All heads must come to the cold tomb ; Only the actions of the just Preserve in death a rich perfume,...
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The Presbyterian Magazine, Volume 1

1851
...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...victor victim bleeds. All heads must come To the cold tomb : Only the actions of the just Smell sweet and blossom in the dust. BOTH WORLDS HAVE THEIR PROPER...
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Selections from the British Poets: Chronologically Arranged from Chaucer to ...

1851
...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,...victor victim bleeds : All heads must come To the cold tomb, Only the actions of the just Smell sweet and blossom in the dust. SOLILOQUY ON PEATH. I HAVE...
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The American Whig Review, Volume 14

1851
...murmuring breath, When they pale captives creep to deatk The garlands witlter on your brow, Then boast no more your mighty deeds; Upon death's purple altar...victor victim bleeds. All heads must come To the cold tomb; Only the action» of the just Smell sweet and blossom in the dust" That grand old lyric to a...
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The Book of English Songs: From the Sixteenth to the Nineteenth Century

Charles Mackay - 1851 - 312 pages
...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: All heads must come To the cold tomb: Only the actions of the just Smell sweet,...
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Selections from the Christian Poets, Ancient and Modern

Christian poets - 1851 - 431 pages
...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...
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