Chapter 17 No.17

Only the laurel got by peace

No thunder e'er can blast:

Th'artillery of the skies

Shoots to the earth and dies:

And ever green and flourishing 'twill last,

Nor dipt in blood, nor widows' tears, nor orphans' cries.

About the head crown'd with these bays,

Like lambent fire, the lightning plays;

Nor, its triumphal cavalcade to

            
            

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