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Стр. 547 - And if my standard-bearer fall, as fall full well he may, For never saw I promise yet of such a bloody fray, Press where ye see my white plume shine, amidst the ranks of war, And be your oriflamme to-day the helmet of Navarre.
Стр. 546 - And thou, Rochelle, our own Rochelle, proud city of the waters, Again let rapture light the eyes of all thy mourning daughters. As thou wert constant in our ills, be joyous in our joy, For cold, and stiff, and still are they who wrought thy walls annoy.
Стр. 479 - But meanwhile axe and lever Have manfully been plied; And now the bridge hangs tottering Above the boiling tide. " Come back, come back, Horatius !
Стр. 549 - And hark ! like the roar of the billows on the shore, The cry of battle rises along their charging line: For God! for the Cause! for the Church! for the Laws! For Charles, King of England, and Rupert of the Rhine! The furious German comes, with his clarions and his drums, His bravoes of Alsatia, and pages of Whitehall; They are bursting on our flanks! Grasp your pikes! Close your ranks!
Стр. 173 - For loyalty is still the same Whether it win or lose the game ; True as the dial to the sun, Although it be not shin'd upon.
Стр. 474 - Then none was for a party ; Then all were for the state ; Then the great man helped the poor, And the poor man loved the great : Then lands were fairly portioned ; Then spoils were fairly sold: The Romans were like brothers In the brave days of old.
Стр. 546 - And Appenzel's stout infantry, and Egmont's Flemish spears. There rode the brood of false Lorraine, the curses of our land ! And dark Mayenne was in the midst, a truncheon in his hand ! And as we looked on them, we thought of Seine's...
Стр. 468 - The harvests of Arretium This year old men shall reap, This year young boys in Umbro Shall plunge the struggling sheep, And in the vats of Luna This year the must shall foam Round the white feet of laughing girls Whose sires have marched to Rome.
Стр. 470 - Now from the rock Tarpeian Could the wan burghers spy The line of blazing villages Red in the midnight sky. The Fathers of the City, They sat all night and day, For every hour some horseman came With tidings of dismay.
Стр. 585 - Ho! strike the flagstaff deep, Sir Knight: ho! scatter flowers, fair maids ; Ho! gunners, fire a loud salute: ho! gallants, draw your blades : Thou sun, shine on her joyously ; ye breezes, waft her wide ; 30 Our glorious SEMPER EADEM, the banner of our pride...