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Home  »  The Sonnets of Europe  »  Giulio Bussi

Samuel Waddington, comp. The Sonnets of Europe. 1888.

Of Glory

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

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

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!