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King among Kings, man among simple men,
With all humanity for kith and kin,
What better guerdon can we wish him, then,
Than Peace—that peace where he has entered in?
No red-stained laurels rest upon his head,
But olive-boughs of peace around him wake
Sweet memories, and crown him,—living or dead—
With praise, and love, and tears,—for England's sake.
May Byron
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