 | Robert Atwan, Laurance Wieder - 2000 - 514 Seiten
...for ever grew still! And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide, But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride; And the foam of his gasping...With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail; And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown. SECOND... | |
 | George Wilson Knight - 2002 - 416 Seiten
...once heav'd, and for ever grew still! And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide, But through it there roll'd not the breath of his pride; And the...With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail: 13 And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown. And... | |
 | John Phillips - 2001 - 712 Seiten
...once heaved, and for ever grew still! And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide, But through it there roll'd not the breath of his pride: And the...With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail; And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown. And the... | |
 | Charles Haddon Spurgeon - 716 Seiten
...forever were stilll And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide, But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride: And the foam of his gasping...With the dew on his brow and the rust on his mail; And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, The lances unlifted, the trumpet unbloicn. GEORGE... | |
 | Emma J. Lapsansky-Werner, Margaret Hope Bacon - 2010 - 402 Seiten
...field of battle. "And there lay the steed with his nostrils all wide, But through them there rolled not the breath of his pride, And the foam of his gasping...lay white on the turf, And cold as the spray of the rock beating serf." "And there lay the rider distorted and pale, With the dew on his brows and the... | |
 | 342 Seiten
...for ever grew still! And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide, But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride; And the foam of his gasping...With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail: And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown. And the... | |
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But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride: And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. And there lay the rider distorted and pale, With the dew on his brow and the rust on his mail ;... 
