Bole ponjis. Containing The tale of the buccaneer ... and other ingredients

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1851
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Page 247 - Clarence, in steel so bright, Though but a maiden knight, Yet in that furious fight Scarce such another. Warwick in blood did wade, Oxford the foe invade, And cruel slaughter made Still as they ran up; Suffolk his axe did ply, Beaumont and Willoughby Bare them right doughtily, Ferrers and Fanhope.
Page 238 - Which he neglects the while, As from a nation vile, Yet, with an angry smile, Their fall portending. And turning to his men, Quoth our brave Henry then : "Though they to one be ten, Be not amazed; Yet have we well begun, Battles so bravely won Have ever to the sun By fame been raised. "And for myself," quoth he, "This my full rest shall be; England ne'er mourn for me, Nor more esteem me.
Page 242 - They now to fight are gone; Armour on armour shone; Drum now to drum did groan — To hear was wonder; That with the cries they make The very earth did shake; Trumpet to trumpet spake, Thunder to thunder.
Page 245 - With Spanish yew so strong, Arrows a cloth-yard long, That like to serpents stung, Piercing the weather. None from his fellow starts, But playing manly parts, And like true English hearts, Stuck close together. When down their bows they threw, And forth their bilboes drew, And on the French they flew, Not one was tardy ; Arms were from shoulders sent, Scalps to the teeth were rent ; Down the French peasants went : Our men were hardy.
Page 225 - FAIR stood the wind for France When we our sails advance, Nor now to prove our chance Longer will tarry; But putting to the main, At Caux, the mouth of Seine, With all his martial train, Landed King Harry.
Page 212 - CLANO, clang ! the massive anvils ring ; Clang, clang ! a hundred hammers swing — Like the thunder-rattle of a tropic sky, The mighty blows still multiply — Clang, clang ! Say, brothers of the dusky brow, What are your strong arms forging now t Clang, clang ! — we forge the coulter now — The coulter of the kindly plough.
Page 248 - Warwick in blood did wade, Oxford the foe invade, And cruel slaughter made Still as they ran up: Suffolk his axe did ply, Beaumont and Willoughby Bare them right doughtily, Ferrers and Fanhope. Upon Saint Crispin's day...
Page 229 - To the king sending. Which he neglects the while, As from a nation vile, Yet with an angry smile Their fall portending. And turning to his men, Quoth our brave Henry then, Though they to one be ten, Be not amazed.
Page 245 - Gloster, that Duke so good, Next of the royal blood, For famous England stood With his brave brother; Clarence, in steel so bright, Though but a maiden knight, Yet in that furious fight, Scarce such another. Warwick...
Page 214 - Say on what sands these links shall sleep, Fathoms beneath the solemn deep ? By Afric's pestilential shore? By many an iceberg, lone and hoar — By many a palmy western isle, Basking in spring's perpetual smile ? By stormy Labrador...

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