The Excelsior History Readers: Book 2-4

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Oliver & Boyd, 1904
 

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Seite 185 - OF Nelson and the North Sing the glorious day's renown, When to battle fierce came forth All the might of Denmark's crown, And her arms along the deep proudly shone; By each gun the lighted brand In a bold determined hand, And the Prince of all the land Led them on.
Seite 186 - On the lofty British line. It was ten of April morn by the chime ; As they drifted on their path There was silence deep as death, And the boldest held his breath For a time. But the might of England flushed To anticipate the scene ; And her van the fleeter rushed O'er the deadly space between.
Seite 183 - Old Kaspar took it from the boy, Who stood expectant by; And then the old man shook his head, And with a natural sigh, ' Tis some poor fellow's skull,' said he, 'Who fell in the great victory.
Seite 184 - twas a famous victory. "My father lived at Blenheim then, Yon little stream hard by; They burnt his dwelling to the ground, And he was forced to fly; So with his wife and child he fled, Nor had he where to rest his head. "With fire and sword the country round Was wasted far and wide, And many a childing mother then And newborn baby died: But things like that, you know, must be At every famous victory.
Seite 180 - And rouse him at the name of Crispian. He that shall live this day, and see old age, Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours, And say " Tomorrow is Saint Crispian " : Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars, And say " These wounds I had on Crispin's day.
Seite 185 - They say it was a shocking sight After the field was won ; For many thousand bodies here Lay rotting in the sun : But things like that, you know, must be After a famous victory. 'Great praise the Duke of Marlbro* won And our good Prince Eugene;' 'Why 'twas a very wicked thing !' Said little Wilhelmine; 'Nay . . nay . . my little girl,' quoth he, 'It was a famous victory.
Seite 180 - This story shall the good man teach his son ; And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by, From this day to the ending of the world, But we in it shall be remembered : We few, we happy few, we band of brothers ; For he to-day that sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother ; be he ne'er so vile, This day shall gentle his condition...
Seite 181 - Not as the conqueror comes, They, the true-hearted, came; Not with the roll of the stirring drums, And the trumpet that sings of fame; Not as the flying come, In silence and in fear; They shook the depths of the desert gloom With their hymns of lofty cheer.
Seite 179 - Such the bard's prophetic words, Pregnant with celestial fire, Bending as he swept the chords Of his sweet but awful lyre. She, with all a monarch's pride, Felt them in her bosom glow : Rush'd to battle, fought, and died ; Dying, hurl'd them at the foe.
Seite 187 - By the festal cities' blaze, While the wine-cup shines in light ! And yet, amidst that joy and uproar, Let us think of them that sleep, Full many a fathom deep, By thy wild and stormy steep, Elsinore...

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