Only in strokes; but, with thy grim looks, and
The thunder-like percussion of thy sounds,
Thou mak’st thine enemies shake, as if the world
Were feverous and did tremble.”
“The man I speak of cannot in the world
Be singly counterpoised.”
When, after his peerless feats in battle, the army and its leaders would idolize him with praises, crown him with garlands, and load him with spoils, he felt his deeds to be their own sufficient pay, and waved all the rewards peremptorily aside with a mien as imposing as if some god
“Were slily crept into his human powers
And gave him noble posture.”
Entering the capital in triumph, the vast and steady imperiality of his attitude, the tremendous weight of his slightest inclination, as though the whole earth were the pedestal-slab on which he stood, drew and fascinated all gaze.