To be a Pensioner of an Ancient Institution?
Why not? Might not a man retire without shame to the Invalides at the
close of his campaigns, and, had not Fortune conquered our old friend,
and age and disaster overcome him? It never once entered Thomas Newcome's
head; nor Clive's, nor Florac's, nor his mother's, that the Colonel
demeaned himself at all by accepting that bounty; and I recollect
Warrington sharing our sentiment and trowling out those noble lines of
the old poet:--
"His golden locks time hath to silver turned;
O time too swift, O swiftness never ceasing!
His youth 'gainst time and age hath ever spurned,
But spurned in vain; youth waneth by encreasing.
Beauty, strength, youth, are flowers but fading seen.
Duty, faith, love, are roots, and ever green.
His helmet now shall make a hive for bees,
And lovers' songs be turned to holy psalms;
A man at arms must now serve on his knees,
And feed on prayers, which are old age's alms.
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