Ay,—father!—I have had those earthly visions
And noble aspirations in my youth,
To make my own the mind of other men,
The enlightener of nations: and to rise
I knew not whither—it might be to fall;
But fall, even as the mountain cataract,
Which having leapt from its more dazzling height,
Even in the foaming strength of its abyss,
Lies low but mighty still.—But this is past,
My thoughts mistook themselves.
Byron.
I loved to hear the war-horn cry,
And panted at the drum’s deep roll;
And held my breath, when—flaming high—
I saw our starry banners fly,
As, challenging the haughty sky,
They went like battle o’er my soul;
For I was so ambitious then,
I burned to be the slave—of men.
John Neal.
Know thou ambition is a restless flame,
Which ever strives to reach the high-placed stars!
Peerbold.
Ambition takes a thousand shapes among
Our race of Time’s most valued toys, and yet
In court, in camp, in school, and mid the buzz
Of eager trade her spirit is the same.
Laurel.... Glory.
Among the ancient Greeks and Romans, the Laurel was consecrated to every species of glory. The beautiful shrub grows abundantly at Delphi, on the banks of the river Peneus. There its aromatic and evergreen branches shoot up to the height of the loftiest trees; and it is alleged that, by means of some secret virtue, they avert lightning from the spots which they adorn.