Rough Notes by an Old Soldier: During Fifty Years' Service, Band 2

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Seite 360 - FRIEND after friend departs : Who hath not lost a friend ? There is no union here of hearts, That finds not here an end : Were this frail world our final rest, Living or dying, none were blest.
Seite 272 - In the sweat of thy brow shalt thou eat bread, till thou return unto the ground; for out of it wast thou taken ; for dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return.
Seite 320 - And when neither sun nor stars in many days appeared, and no small tempest lay on us, all hope that we should be saved was then taken away.
Seite 265 - A few short years of evil past, We reach the happy shore, Where death-divided friends at last Shall meet, to part no more.
Seite 119 - The grave itself is but a covered bridge, Leading from light to light, through a brief darkness ! PRINCE HENRY, emerging from the bridge.
Seite 128 - Augsburg, were secured from oppression by the mere terror of his great name. The Pope himself was forced to preach humanity and moderation to Popish princes. For a voice which seldom threatened in vain had declared that, unless...
Seite 363 - Major for his exertions in recovering the guns of the fort and shots from the bottom of the river, and mounting them in position when it was reported impracticable ; the guns were 24-pounders, sixteen of which and 4,000 rouud shut he recovered in the depth cf a Canadian winter.
Seite 363 - Coteau-du-Lac, an important position on the river St. Lawrence, and received the thanks of the Commander of the Forces...
Seite 139 - " Corunna " " Busaco " " Salamanca " " Vittoria " " St. Sebastian " "Nive" " Peninsula " " Niagara " " Waterloo " " Nagpore " "Maheidpore"
Seite 209 - Tho' from that head, late towering high, The waving plume is torn, And low in dust that form doth lie, Dishonour'd and forlorn ! Yet Death's dark shadow cannot hide The graven characters of pride, That on the lip and brow reveal The impress of the spirit's seal. Lives there a mother to deplore The son she ne'er shall see ? Or maiden, on some distant shore, To break her heart for thee? — Perchance to roam a maniac there, With wild-flower wreaths to deck her hair, And through the weary night to wait...

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