Verse > Anthologies > Samuel Waddington, ed. > The Sonnets of Europe
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Samuel Waddington, comp.  The Sonnets of Europe.  1888.
 
Of Glory
By Giulio Bussi
 
Translated by Sir Aubrey de Vere

GLORY, what art thou? Thee, despite of pain,
  And want, and toil, the brave heart cherisheth:
  Thee the pale student courts, wasting, in vain,
  His primal youth, thy worshipper in death.
Glory, what art thou? Thine imperial breath        5
  Speaks woe to all: with pangs do men obtain
  An empty boon that duly perisheth,
  Whose very fear of loss outweighs the gain.
Glory, what art thou then? A fond deceit,
  Child of long suffering, empty air, a sweet        10
  Prize that is sought with toil, but never found:
In life, by every envious lip denied;
  In death, to ears that hear not a sweet sound:
  Glory—thou fatal scourge of human pride!
 
 
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