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One crowded hour of glorious life
Is worth an age without a name.
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Daemon
Posted: Sunday, May 3, 2015 12:00:00 AM
Rank: Advanced Member

Joined: 3/7/2009
Posts: 33,659
Neurons: 100,155
Location: Inside Farlex computers
One crowded hour of glorious life
Is worth an age without a name.

Sir Walter Scott (1771-1832)
belll
Posted: Sunday, May 3, 2015 2:34:54 AM

Rank: Member

Joined: 4/16/2015
Posts: 64
Neurons: 8,420
Good old life. Cant buy itShame on you Cant sell it Shame on you Can lose itThink

That's life good old life...Whistle
sandeep patra
Posted: Sunday, May 3, 2015 3:03:17 AM

Rank: Advanced Member

Joined: 10/25/2014
Posts: 160
Neurons: 122,829
Location: Koraput, Orissa, India
Very true living it up to our best of the best results a self fulfilled life
Bully_rus
Posted: Sunday, May 3, 2015 3:43:38 AM
Rank: Advanced Member

Joined: 3/26/2013
Posts: 3,519
Neurons: 361,805
Location: Minsk, Minskaya Voblasts', Belarus
Death, if necessary, must have great cause not glory as the final motive. Though youth was, is, and always will be the same...
ChristopherJohnson
Posted: Sunday, May 3, 2015 5:36:06 AM

Rank: Advanced Member

Joined: 3/27/2014
Posts: 2,510
Neurons: 2,194,036
Location: Tbilisi, T'bilisi, Georgia
I am not so ambitious. I do not care about name, glory, fame etc. When people, who you have never seen or heard about recognize you, it is very annoying.
NeuroticHellFem
Posted: Sunday, May 3, 2015 5:59:59 AM

Rank: Advanced Member

Joined: 7/22/2014
Posts: 2,292
Neurons: 2,599,403
Location: Lilyfield, New South Wales, Australia
All I can think about is a beautiful song from six years ago, One Crowded Hour by Aussie band Augie March.
Wagner Douglas
Posted: Sunday, May 3, 2015 10:21:14 AM
Rank: Member

Joined: 10/24/2010
Posts: 78
Neurons: 725,151
Location: São Paulo, Sao Paulo, Brazil
It is an opinion and I respect, but:

For many years, the poem was incorrectly attributed to Mordaunt's contemporary, Sir Walter Scott. Scott had merely quoted a stanza of the poem at the beginning of Chapter 34 of his novel Old Mortality.

Thomas Osbert Mordaunt (1730–1809), a British officer and poet, is best remembered for his oft-quoted poem "The Call", written during the Seven Years' War of 1756–1763:

"Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife!
Throughout the sensual world proclaim,
One crowded hour of glorious life
Is worth an age without a name."
striker
Posted: Sunday, May 3, 2015 10:47:18 AM
Rank: Advanced Member

Joined: 5/30/2014
Posts: 1,698
Neurons: 5,079,026
Location: Boston, Massachusetts, United States
good living, happy life
Mehrdad77
Posted: Sunday, May 3, 2015 11:18:03 AM

Rank: Advanced Member

Joined: 12/22/2014
Posts: 1,740
Neurons: 502,258
Location: Tehrān, Tehran, Iran
When you're in love it's the most glorious two and a half days of your life.
Richard Lewis
johnfl
Posted: Sunday, May 3, 2015 2:22:37 PM

Rank: Advanced Member

Joined: 3/1/2014
Posts: 848
Neurons: 484,397
Location: Newman Lake, Washington, United States
SIR WALTER SCOTT SEEMS TO BE PHILANTHROPIST.
Milica Boghunovich
Posted: Sunday, May 3, 2015 5:11:23 PM
Rank: Advanced Member

Joined: 8/5/2014
Posts: 1,016
Neurons: 156,985
Daemon wrote:
Is worth an age without a name.

Sir Walter Scott (1771-1832)


Glorious life may mean striving for justice, and never be recognized. The masses would applaud any corrupt glory without knowing the truth behind the "glamour.'

I would never like to have Napoleon's, Alexander the Great's (and etc.) glory when they were simply mass murderers.
monamagda
Posted: Sunday, May 3, 2015 9:09:52 PM

Rank: Advanced Member

Joined: 2/4/2014
Posts: 8,768
Neurons: 7,550,582
Location: Bogotá, Bogota D.C., Colombia
MISQUOTED!!

Thomas Osbert Mordaunt (1730–1809), a British officer and poet, is best remembered for his oft-quoted poem "The Call", written during the Seven Years' War of 1756–1763:

"Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife!
Throughout the sensual world proclaim,
One crowded hour of glorious life
Is worth an age without a name."


For many years, the poem was incorrectly attributed to Mordaunt's contemporary, Sir Walter Scott. Scott had merely quoted a stanza of the poem at the beginning of Chapter 34 of his novel Old Mortality.

One Crowded Hour, Tim Bowden's biography about the Australian combat cameraman Neil Davis, takes its title from a phrase used in "The Call"


The Call
by Thomas Osbert Mordaunt


Go, lovely boy! to yonder tow'r
The fame of Janus, ruthless King!
And shut, O! shut the brazen door,
And here the keys in triumph bring.

Full many a tender heart hath bled,
Its joys in Belgia's soil entomb'd:
Which thou to Hymen's smiling bed,
And length of sweetest hours had doom'd.

Oh, glory! you to ruin owe
The fairest plume the hero wears:
Raise the bright helmet from his brow;
You'll mock beneath the manly tears.

Who does not burn to place the crown
Of conquest on his Albion's head?
Who weeps not at her plaintive moan,
To giver her hapless orphans bread?

Forgive, ye brave, the generous fault,
If thus my virtue falls; alone
My Delia stole my earliest thought,
And fram'd its feelings by her own.

Her mind so pure, her face so fair;
Her breast the seat of softest love;
It seemed her words an angel's were,
Her gentle percepts from above.

My mind thus form'd, to misery gave
The tender tribute of a tear:
O! Belgia, open thy vast grave,
For I could pour and ocean there.

When first you show'd me at your feet
Pale liberty, religion tied,
I flew to shut the glorious gate
Of freedom on a tyrant's pride.

Tho great the cause, so wore with woes,
I can not but lament the deed:
My youth to melancholy bows,
An Clotho trifles with my thread.

But stop, my Clio, wanton muse,
Indulge not this unmanly strain:
Beat, beat the drums, my ardor rouse,
And call the soldier back again.

Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife,
Throughout the sensual world proclaim,
One crowded hour of glorious life
Is worth an age without a name.


Go then, thou little lovely boy,
I can not, must not, hear thee now;
And all thy soothing arts employ
To sooth my Delia of her wo.

If the gay flow'r, in all its youth,
Thy scythe of glory here must meet;
Go, bear my laurel, pledge of truth,
And lay it at my Delia's feet.

Her tears shall keep it ever green,
To crown the image in her breast;
Till death doth close the hapless scene,
And calls its angel home to reST.


http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thomas_Osbert_Mordaunt
Fredric Frank Myers
Posted: Sunday, May 3, 2015 9:25:02 PM

Rank: Advanced Member

Joined: 1/31/2015
Posts: 208
Neurons: 22,366
Location: Apache Junction, Arizona, United States
So true, as always, so very true......
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