The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Visions of glory, spare my aching sight! Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul!
The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow'r, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, Awaits alike th' inevitable hour. The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Her track, where'er the goddess roves, Glory pursue, and gen'rous shame, Th' unconquerable mind, and freedom's holy flame.
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