Personal and Military History of Philip Kearny, Major-general United States Volunteers ...

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Rice and Gage, 1870 - Generals - 516 pages

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Page 432 - And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves, Dewy with nature's tear-drops as they pass, Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, Over the unreturning brave, — alas! Ere evening to be trodden like the grass...
Page 50 - There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital had gathered then Her Beauty and her Chivalry, and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men...
Page 416 - Yet, Freedom ! yet thy banner, torn, but flying, Streams like the thunder-storm against the wind ; Thy trumpet voice, though broken now and dying, The loudest still the tempest leaves behind ; Thy tree hath lost its blossoms, and the rind...
Page 132 - Forward, the Light Brigade ! Charge for the guns ! " he said : Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. " Forward, the Light Brigade...
Page 12 - Mercury, And vaulted with such ease into his seat As if an angel dropp'd down from the clouds, To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus, And witch the world with noble horsemanship.
Page 178 - Whatever argument may be drawn from particular examples, superficially viewed, a thorough examination of the subject will evince that the art of war is at once comprehensive and complicated ; that it demands much previous study ; and that the possession of it, in its most improved and perfect state, is always of great moment to the security of a nation.
Page 440 - Through God we shall do valiantly: for he it is that shall tread down our enemies.
Page 433 - Yet shall Memory mourn that day, When, with expectation pale, Of her soldier far away The poor widow hears the tale. In imagination wild, She shall wander o'er this plain, Rave, — and bid her orphan child Seek his sire among the slain.
Page 432 - How sleep the brave, who sink to rest By all their country's wishes blest ! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. By fairy hands their knell is rung ; By forms unseen their dirge is sung ; There Honor comes, a pilgrim gray, To bless the turf that wraps their clay ; And Freedom shall awhile repair, To dwell a weeping hermit there ! WILLIAM COLLINS.
Page 497 - Of guns, and drums, and wounds, (God save the mark !) And telling me, the sovereign'st thing on earth Was parmaceti for an inward bruise ; And that it was great pity, so it was, That villanous saltpetre should be digg'd Out of the bowels of the harmless earth, Which many a good tall fellow had destroy'd So cowardly ; and, but for these vile guns, He would himself have been a soldier.

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