Mown down by Time at the appointed hour;
And in the world of speed
The noblest Arab steed
Yields, O Combustion, to thy pent-up power.
On Youth of ardent aim
No more Mazeppa's fame
Or Turpin's feats exert their ancient spell;
Napier and Wolseley stand
No more for war's command,
But only steel and rubber, oil and smell.