The Writer of "The Burial of Sir John Moore" Discovered

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T. Thatcher, 1908 - 93 Seiten
 

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Seite 25 - The time would e'er be o'er, And I on thee should look my last, And thou should'st smile no more. And still upon that face I look, And think 'twill smile again; And still the thought I will not brook, That I must look in vain. But when I speak, thou dost not say What thou ne'er left'st unsaid, And now I feel, as well I may, Sweet Mary ! thou art dead.
Seite 74 - Few and short were the prayers we said And we spoke not a word of sorrow ; But we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead, And we bitterly thought of the morrow. We thought — as we hollowed his narrow bed And smoothed down his lonely pillow — How the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, And we far away on the billow...
Seite 82 - 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 moonbeam's misty light, And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Nor in sheet nor in shroud we bound him, But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, With his martial cloak around him.
Seite 82 - We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed And smoothed down his lonely pillow, That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, And we far away on the billow! Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him — But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him.
Seite 74 - Slowly and sadly we laid him down, From the field of his fame fresh and gory; We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone, But we left him alone with his glory.
Seite 16 - 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 moonbeam's misty light And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast...
Seite 15 - No coffin 12 458 459 could be procured ; and the officers of his staff wrapped the body, dressed as it was, in a military cloak and blankets. The interment was hastened ; for, about eight in the morning, some firing was heard, and the officers feared that, if a serious attack were made, they should be ordered away, and not suffered to pay him their last duty. The officers of his family bore him to the grave; the funeral service was read by the chaplain ; and the corps was covered with earth.
Seite 27 - ... piled up with his books, a small rickety table before the fire-place, covered with parish memoranda, and two trunks containing all his papers — serving at the same time to cover the broken parts of the floor, — constituted all the furniture of his sitting-room. The mouldy walls of the closet in which he slept were hanging with loose folds of damp paper...
Seite 10 - I made him listen to me as I read the passage, which he heard with deep and sensible emotion. We were both loud and ardent in our commendation of it, and after some little time I proposed to our friend to take a walk into the country. He consented, and we bent our way to Simpson's nursery, a place about half-way between Dublin and the Rock.
Seite 25 - twill smile again ; And still the thought I will not brook That I must look in vain ! But when I speak — thou dost not say What thou ne'er left'st unsaid ; And now I feel, as well I may, Sweet Mary ! thou art dead ! If thou wouldst stay, e'en as thou art, All cold and all serene — I still might press thy silent heart, And where thy smiles have been. While e'en thy chill, bleak corse I have, Thou seemest still mine own ; But there I lay thee in thy grave — And I am now alone...

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