meed

• Not that high meed, thy mourning sovereign's praise, —  The History of Napoleon Buonaparte
• But let us leave them where they lie -- their meed is all men's scorn. —  National Epics
• Yet even under these circumstances his daily religious practices — those which no competitor for the meed of peace and the crown of glory can dispense with — were not without avail. —  Memoir and Diary of John Yeardley
• The poem describes the encounter thus The marshals leave them face to face and from the lists are gone Here stand the champions of my Cid, there those of Carrion Each with his gaze intent and fixed upon his chosen foe Their bucklers braced before their breasts, their lances pointing low Their heads bent down, as each man leans above his saddle-bow Then with one impulse every spur is in the charger's side And earth itself is felt to shake beneath their furious stride Till, midway meeting, three with three, in struggle fierce they lock While all account them dead who hear the echo of the shock The cowardly Infantes, having been defeated, publicly confessed themselves in the wrong, and were ever after abhorred, while the Cid returned to Valencia with the spoils wrung from his adversaries, and proudly presented to his wife and daughters the three champions who had upheld their cause He who a noble lady wrongs and casts aside--may he Meet like requital for his deeds, or worse, if worse there be But let us leave them where they lie--their meed is all men's scorn Turn we to speak of him that in a happy hour was born Valencia the Great was glad, rejoiced at heart to see The honoured champions of her lord return in victory Shortly after this the Cid's pride was further salved by proposals of marriage from the princes of Aragon and Navarre, and thus his descendants in due time sat upon the thrones of these realms And he that in a good hour was born, behold how he hath sped His daughters now to higher rank and greater honor wed Sought by Navarre and Aragon for queens his daughters twain And monarchs of his blood to-day upon the thrones of Spain Five years now elapsed during which the Cid lived happy, honored by all and visited by embassies even from distant Persia. —  The Book of the Epic
• Song-meed is heart-meed, —  Path Flower and Other Verses

Allen's Synonyms and Antonyms

Used in the Same Context