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More from Thomas Babington Macaulay

  1. Soon fades the spell, soon comes the night; Say will it not be then the same, Whether we played the black or white, Whether we lost or won the game?

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  2. Nothing is so useless as a general maxim.

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  3. Oh! wherefore come ye forth in triumph from the north, With your hands and your feet and your raiment all red? And wherefore doth your rout send forth a joyous…

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