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The marching armies of Cyrus
Have vanished in earth again,
And only the frail papyrus
Still reigns o'er the sons of men.

Papyrus! O reed immortal,
Survivor of all renown!
Thou heed'st not the solemn portal
Where heroes and kings go down.
The monarchs of generations
Have died into dust away;
O reed that outlivest nations,
Be our symbol of strength to-day!

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Cyrus (1)
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