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Shirley, James: The Glories of our Blood and State

Portre of Shirley, James

The Glories of our Blood and State (English)

The glories of our blood and state

Are shadows, not substantial things;

There is no armour against fate;

Death lays his icy hand on kings.

Sceptre and crown

Must tumble down,

And in the dust be equal made

With the poor crooked scythe and spade.


Some men with swords may 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 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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Source of the quotation

Elfoszló árny a rang s a vér (Hungarian)

Elfoszló árny a rang s a vér,

dicsfényük hirtelen kiég.

Sors ellen kardod mit sem ér,

király légy bár, ledönt a vég:

fejék s jogar

lehull hamar,

s egyforma lesz, ha porba hullt,

a címeres s a nyomorult.


Mezőkön harcos kardja szánt,

vetése friss babért terem.

De férfitest is halni szánt:

ledönti gyilkos küzdelem.


nagy bajnokok

ajkán a hökkent lég megáll,

s új foglyot ejt a bősz halál.


Virágát veszti homlokod,

s már némulsz, tettre büszke lény!

Holt győztes, véred szétcsorog

a sors vörös oltárkövén!

Hajtsd földre főd,

már vár a rög,

hol csak a jók erényei

fognak rügyezni s fényleni.

Uploaded byP. T.
Source of the quotation