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Quench’d the light’ning of his eyes,
The foe to daunt, the fair to charm.
Mourn, soldiers, mourn 1 your day is done;
Valour has lost its cheering sun,
The Roman glory sets on Egypt’s shore,
4nd great Mark Antony will rise no more.


Oh, comrades 1 many a time has he
Led us to glorious victory !
Then, blush not, friends, at drops that force
- Down manhood’s cheek their rugged course:
The tears that soldiers o'er their general shed,
Are brave men's tribute to a brave man dead.


A constant fire his courage glow’d ;

A ceaseless stream his bounty sow'd.
If riches in the field of fame he reap'd,
The harvest was on love and friendship heap'd.


When Mars no longer battled on his side,
And Neptune, weary of his prowess grown,
Buoy’d him no more to conquest down the tide,
E’en then no sword subdued him but his own.
While Cleopatra's grave ye trim,
There her loved Antony inter;
Por she her Egypt lost for him,
He half the world for her.

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No monument, till now, could boast a pair
So famed, yet, ah / so luckless in their doom;

Long will the doves of Venus murmur there,
And shouts of warriors thunder o'er the tomb.


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