The melancholy ghosts of dead renown,
Whispering faint echoes of the world's applause.

The melancholy ghosts of dead renown,
Whispering faint echoes of the world's applause.

Multitudinous echoes awoke and died in the distance.
. . . .
And, when the echoes had read more

Multitudinous echoes awoke and died in the distance.
. . . .
And, when the echoes had ceased, like a sense of pain was the
silence.

By the apostle Paul, shadows to-night
Have struck more terror to the soul of Richard
Than can read more

By the apostle Paul, shadows to-night
Have struck more terror to the soul of Richard
Than can the substance of ten thousand soldiers
Armed in proof and led by shallow Richmond.

But her voice is still living immortal,
The same you have frequently heard,
In your rambles in read more

But her voice is still living immortal,
The same you have frequently heard,
In your rambles in valleys and forests,
Repeating your ultimate word.

Like Hezekiah's, backward runs
The shadow of my days.

Like Hezekiah's, backward runs
The shadow of my days.

The worthy gentleman [Mr. Coombe], who has been snatched from us
at the moment of the election, and in read more

The worthy gentleman [Mr. Coombe], who has been snatched from us
at the moment of the election, and in the middle of the contest,
while his desires were as warm, and his hopes as eager as ours,
has feelingly told us, what shadows we are, and what shadows we
pursue.

Our echoes roll from soul to soul,
And grow for ever and for ever.
Blow, bugle, blow, read more

Our echoes roll from soul to soul,
And grow for ever and for ever.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.

How sweet the answer Echo makes
To music at night,
When, roused by lute or horn, she read more

How sweet the answer Echo makes
To music at night,
When, roused by lute or horn, she wakes,
And far away, o'er lawns and lakes,
Goes answering light.

Follow a shadow, it still flies you,
Seem to fly, it will pursue:
So court a mistress, read more

Follow a shadow, it still flies you,
Seem to fly, it will pursue:
So court a mistress, she denies you;
Let her alone, she will court you.
Say are not women truly, then,
Styled but the shadows of us men?