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Стр. 69 - I, an' please your reverence, has been standing for twelve hours together in the trenches, up to his knees in cold water, — or engaged, said I, for months together, in long and dangerous marches; harassed, perhaps, in his rear to-day ; — harassing others to-morrow ; — detached here; — countermanded there; — resting this night out upon his arms; — beat up in his shirt the next; — benumbed in his joints; — perhaps without straw in his tent to kneel on ; — he must say his prayers how...
Стр. 69 - And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed. The mustering squadron, and the clattering car. Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, And swiftly forming in the ranks of war...
Стр. 126 - Tis morn; but scarce yon level sun Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun, Where furious Frank and fiery Hun Shout in their sulphurous canopy. The combat deepens. On, ye Brave, Who rush to glory, or the grave! Wave, Munich! all thy banners wave, And charge with all thy chivalry! Few, few shall part, where many meet! The snow shall be their winding-sheet, And every turf beneath their feet Shall be a soldier's sepulchre.
Стр. 168 - FAR in a wild, unknown to public view, From youth to age a reverend hermit grew ; The moss his bed, the cave his humble cell, His food the fruits, his drink the crystal well : Remote from man, with God he pass'd the days, Prayer all his business, all his pleasure praise.
Стр. 127 - Somebody's darling was borne one day ; Somebody's darling, so young and so brave, Wearing yet, on his pale sweet face — Soon to be hid by the dust of the grave — The lingering light of his boyhood's grace. Matted and damp are the curls of gold, Kissing the snow of that fair young brow ; Pale are the lips of delicate mould — Somebody's darling is dying now.
Стр. 127 - Darling is dying now. Back from his beautiful blue-veined brow Brush all the wandering waves of gold, Cross his hands on his bosom now, Somebody's Darling is still and cold.
Стр. 68 - twas but the wind, Or the car rattling o'er the stony street; On with the dance! let joy be unconfined; No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet To chase the glowing Hours with flying feet But hark!
Стр. 112 - The shades of night were falling fast, As through an Alpine village passed A youth, who bore, 'mid snow and ice, A banner with the strange device, Excelsior ! His brow was sad ; his eye beneath, Flashed like a falchion from its sheath, And like a silver clarion rung The accents of that unknown tongue, Excelsior...
Стр. 69 - I heard the poor gentleman say his prayers last night, said the landlady, very devoutly, and with my own ears, or I could not have believed it. Are you sure of it ? replied the curate. A soldier, an' please your reverence, said I, prays as often (of his own accord) as a parson ; and when he is fighting for his king, and for his own life, and for his honour too, he has the most reason to pray to God of any one in the whole world. 'Twas well said of thee, Trim, said my uncle Toby. But when a soldier,...
Стр. 2 - Reputation, reputation, reputation! O, I have lost my reputation! I have lost the immortal part of myself, and what remains is bestial.

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