Hvad folk siger - Skriv en anmeldelse
Vi har ikke fundet nogen anmeldelser de normale steder.
Andre udgaver - Se alle
American appears army banks beautiful become believe boat brought called carried cause character command conduct considerable contained continued course danger effect engine English entered eyes feel fire force four give given gold hand head heart hope horses human hundred interest John July kind king land less letters light live Lord manner master means Mexico miles mind Montezuma months nature necessary never object observed obtain officers once opinion passed person political present principles produced received remain remarks rendered residence respect river says seems seen sent side situation soon taken thing thousand tion town United various whole wish writer young
Side 123 - Abba, Father, all things are possible unto thee ; take away this cup from me: nevertheless, not what I will, but what thou wilt.
Side 259 - 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.
Side 156 - The one was fire and fickleness, a child Most mutable in wishes, but in mind A wit as various, — gay, grave, sage, or wild, — Historian, bard, philosopher combined : He multiplied himself among mankind, The Proteus of their talents : But his own Breathed most in ridicule, — which, as the wind, Blew where it listed, laying all things prone, — Now to o'erthrow a fool, and now to shake a throne.
Side 260 - 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.
Side 511 - Were I in England now, as once I was, and had but this fish painted, not a holiday fool there but would give a piece of silver. There would this monster make a man. Any strange beast there makes a man. When they will not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian.
Side 259 - 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. But half of our heavy task was done When the clock struck the hour for retiring; And we heard the distant and random gun That the foe was sullenly firing. Slowly and sadly we laid him down, From the field of his fame...
Side 119 - Then shall they begin to say to the mountains, Fall on us ; and to the hills, Cover us.
Side 259 - By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him ; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, With his martial cloak around him. 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.