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Poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon

Lines Addressed to Colonel H, on His Return from Waterloo

Who envies not the glory of the brave!
The sunshine of their fametheir laurell'd grave!
Theirs is the memory of afterlight;
Theirs is a brightness 'mid oblivion's night:
Time whelms the many with eternal gloom,
But sheds fresh honours on the heros' tomb.
In life, they move not with the common throng,

To them the nobler heights of fame belong;
Each heart admires, each lip is warm with praise;
Each hand would weave the victor-chieftain's bays.
Warrior, this praise is thine! but there will be
A purer, holier, dearer mead for thee:
Thine was the arm that stopp'd the destin'd blow,
And spar'd the triumph of a fallen foe.
The wreath that valour's deeds must gain is bright
But its chief lustre flows from mercy's light.

Letitia Elizabeth Landon

Letitia Elizabeth Landon's other poems:
  1. Amelioration and the Future, Man's Noble Tasks
  2. Fragment (It is not spring, but still the new-come year)
  3. The Tournament
  4. The Nameless Grave
  5. To Sir John Doyle, Bart

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