The Bivouac; Or, Stories of the Peninsular War, Zväzok 1

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Strana 289 - Be copy now to men of grosser blood, And teach them how to war! — And you, good yeomen, Whose limbs were made in England, show us here The mettle of your pasture; let us swear That you are worth your breeding : which I doubt not; For there is none of you so mean and base, That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.
Strana 161 - From camp to camp, through the foul womb of night, The hum of either army stilly sounds, That the fix'd sentinels almost receive The secret whispers of each other's watch...
Strana 3 - Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease, Seats of my youth, when every sport could please, How often have I loitered o'er thy green, Where humble happiness endeared each scene!
Strana 43 - By Heaven ! it is a splendid sight to see (For one who hath no friend, no brother there) Their rival scarfs of mix'd embroidery, Their various arms that glitter in the air...
Strana 71 - I've lost in wooing, In watching and pursuing The light that lies In woman's eyes, Has been my heart's undoing. Though Wisdom oft has sought me, I scorn'd the lore she brought me, My only books Were woman's looks, And folly's all they've taught me.
Strana 108 - All asperity of feeling seemed forgotten. To a stranger, they would have appeared more like an allied force, than men hot from a ferocious conflict, and only gathering strength and energy to recommence it anew. But a still nobler rivalry for the time existed : the interval was employed in carrying off the wounded, who lay intermixed upon the hard-contested field ; and to the honour of both be it told, that each endeavoured to extricate the common sufferers, and remove their unfortunate friends and...
Strana 143 - Ah! then, Terence, jewel, it's hard for me to look well, considering the way I have been fretted by the tenants, and afflicted with the lumbago. Denis Clark — may the widow's curse follow him wherever he goes ! — bundled off to America with a neighbour's wife, and a year and a half's rent along with her, the thief! And then, since Holland tide, I have not had a day's health.
Strana 122 - ... Biddy with regret. I sat with her till we heard the quartermaster scrape his feet at the hall-door on his return from his club, and kissing poor Biddy tenderly, as Roger entered by the front, I levanted by the back-door. I fancied myself desperately in love, and was actually dreaming of my dulcinea when my aunt's maid called me before day, to prepare for the stage-coach that was to convey me to my regiment in Dublin. In a few weeks an ensigncy dropped in, and I got it. Time slipped insensibly...
Strana 124 - ... well-remembered street of Ballinamore late in the evening, after an absence of three years. My aunt was on a visit, and she had taken that as a convenient season for having her domicile newly painted. I halted at the inn, and after dinner strolled over the way to visit my quondam acquaintances, the Mac Gawlys. If I had intended a surprise, my design would have been a failure. The quartermaster's establishment were on the qui vive. The fact was, that since the removal of the dragoons, Ballinamore...
Strana 165 - No more — no more — oh ! never more on me The freshness of the heart can fall like dew, Which out of all the lovely things we see Extracts emotions beautiful and new, Hived in our bosoms like the bag o' the bee, Think'st thou the honey with those objects grew?

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