( 16 )
Such Bribes the rapid Greek o'er Asia whirl'd,
For such the steady Romans shook the World;
For such in distant Lands the Britons shine,
And stain with Blood the Danube or the Rhine;
This Pow'r has Praise, that Virtue scarce can warm,
Till Fame supplies the universal Charm.
Yet Reason frowns on War's unequal Game,
Where wasted Nations raise a single Name,
And mortgag'd States their Grandsires Wreaths regret
From Age to Age in everlasting Debt;
Wreaths which at last the dear-bought Right convey
To rust on Medals, or on Stones decay.
On[1] what Foundation stands the Warrior's Pride?
How just his Hopes let Swedish Charles decide;
A Frame
- ↑ Ver. 147—167.
