You know we French stormed Ratisbon:
A mile or so away,
On a little mound, Napoleon
Stood on our storming-day;
With neck out-thrust, you fancy how,
Legs wide, arms locked behind,
As if to balance the prone brow,
Oppressive with its mind.
Just as perhaps he mused, “My plans
That soar, to earth may fall,
...
Anonymous translation from the French
THE WORK is done! the spent flame burns no more,
The furnace fires smoke and die,
The iron flood boils over. Ope the door,
And let the haughty one pass by!
Roar, mighty river, rush upon your course,
A bound,—and, from your dwelling past,
Dash forward, like a torrent from its source,
A...
Dark fell the night, the watch was set,
The host was idly spread,
The Danes around their watchfires met,
Caroused, and fiercely fed.
The chiefs beneath a tent of leaves
And Guthrum, king of all,
Devoured the flesh of England’s beeves,
And laughed at England’s fall.
Each warrior proud, each Danish earl,
In mail of wolf-...
King Charles, and who ’ll do him right now?
King Charles, and who ’s ripe for fight now?
Give a rouse: here ’s, in hell’s despite now,
King Charles!
Who gave me the goods that went since?
Who raised me the house that sank once?
Who helped me to gold I spent since?
Who found me in wine you drank once?
(Chorus)King Charles, and...
[June, 1645]
By Obadiah Bind-Their-Kings-in-Chains-and-Their-Nobles-with-Links-of-Iron; Sergeant in Ireton’s Regiment
O, WHEREFORE come ye forth, in triumph from the north,
With your hands and your feet and your raiment all red?
And wherefore doth your rout send forth a joyous shout?
And whence be the grapes of the wine-press that ye tread?
O,...
This I got on the day that Goring
Fought through York, like a wild beast roaring—
The roofs were black, and the streets were full,
The doors built up with packs of wool;
But our pikes made way through a storm of shot,
Barrel to barrel till locks grew hot;
Frere fell dead, and Lucas was gone,
But the drum still beat and the flag went on....
[Corunna, Spain, January 16, 1809]
NOT a drum was heard, not a funeral note,
As his corse to the rampart we hurried;
Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot
O’er the grave where our hero we buried.
We buried him darkly, at dead of night,
The sods with our bayonets turning;
By the struggling moonbeams’ misty light,
And...
“what are the bugles blowin’ for?” said Files-on-Parade.
“To turn you out, to turn you out,” the Color-Sergeant said.
“What makes you look so white, so white?” said Files-on-Parade.
“I ’m dreadin’ what I ’ve got to watch,” the Color-Sergeant said.
For they ’re hangin’ Danny Deever, you can hear the Dead March play,
The regiment ’s in ’ollow...
[About 1307]
for Scotland’s and for freedom’s right
The Bruce his part had played,
In five successive fields of fight
Been conquered and dismayed;
Once more against the English host
His band he led, and once more lost
The meed for which he fought;
And now from battle, faint and worn,
The homeless fugitive forlorn...
April 19, 1836
BY the rude bridge that arched the flood,
Their flag to April’s breeze unfurled,
Here once the embattled farmers stood,
And fired the shot heard round the world.
The foe long since in silence slept;
Alike the conqueror silent sleeps;
And Time the ruined bridge has swept
Down the dark stream which seaward...
