And Slander gnaw her forky tongue.
Night and the grave, remove your gloom;
Darkness becomes the vulgar dead;
But glory bids the royal tomb
Disdain the horrors of a shade.
Glory with all her lamps shall burn,
And watch the warrior’s sleeping clay,
Till the last trumpet rouse his urn,
To aid the triumphs of the day.
But he had a simpler manner, and even in his stronger expressions rose to the majesty of simple strength, as in the following: