A. You told me, I remember, glory built B. I grant that, men continuing what they are, Fierce, avaricious, proud, there must be war, And never meant the rule should be applied Let laurels, drench'd in pure Parnassian dews, Feats of renown, though wrought in ancient days, Tells of a few stout hearts, that fought and died Where duty plac'd them, at their country's side; The man, that is not mov'd with what he reads, That takes not fire at their heroic deeds, Unworthy of the blessings of the brave, Is base in kind, and born to be a slave. But let eternal infamy pursue The wretch to nought but his ambition true, |