Partisan Life with Col. John S. Mosby

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Harper & Brothers, 1867 - United States - 492 pages
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This book tells the history of Mosby's Rangers from first hand accounts of soldiers and the inhabitants in which they encountered.

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Page 482 - Banner — it is trailing! While around it sounds the wailing Of its people in their woe. For though conquered, they adore it! Love the cold dead hands that bore it! Weep for those who fell before it! Pardon those who trailed and tore it, But, Oh! wildly they deplore it Now who furl and fold it so.
Page 483 - tis gory, Yet 'tis wreathed around with glory, And 'twill live in song and story Though its folds are in the dust ! For its fame on brightest pages, Penned by poets and by sages, Shall go sounding down the ages — Furl its folds though now we must.
Page 333 - Oh sleep! it is a gentle thing, Beloved from pole to pole! To Mary Queen the praise be given! She sent the gentle sleep from Heaven, That slid into my soul.
Page 482 - tis tattered; Broken is its staff and shattered; And the valiant hosts are scattered Over whom it floated high. Oh! 'tis hard for us to fold it; Hard to think there's none to hold it; Hard that those who once unrolled it Now must furl it with a sigh.
Page 487 - Yes, give me the land where the ruins are spread, And the living tread light on the hearts of the dead; Yes, give me a land that is blest by the dust And bright with the deeds of the down-trodden just.
Page 487 - There's a grandeur in graves — there's a glory in gloom ! For out of the gloom future brightness is born, As after the night looms the sunrise of morn ; And the graves of the dead, with the grass overgrown, May yet form the footstool of Liberty's throne, And each single wreck in the war-path of Might, Shall yet be a rock in the temple of Right ! " Ladies and gentlemen, I am now done.
Page 485 - Matted and damp are the curls of gold Kissing the snow of that fair young brow; Pale are the lips of delicate mould — Somebody's darling is dying now. Back from...
Page 165 - What might this be? A thousand fantasies Begin to throng into my memory, Of calling shapes, and beckoning shadows dire, And airy tongues that syllable men's names On sands, and shores, and desert wildernesses.
Page 486 - Been baptized in the waves of light? God knows best! he was somebody's love: Somebody's heart enshrined him there; Somebody wafted his name above, Night and morn, on the wings of prayer. Somebody wept when he marched away, Looking so handsome, brave, and grand; Somebody's kiss on his forehead lay; Somebody clung to his parting hand.
Page 486 - Somebody's waiting and watching for him, Yearning to hold him again to her heart; And there he lies, with his blue eyes dim, And the smiling, childlike lips apart. Tenderly bury the fair young dead, Pausing to drop on his grave a tear; Carve on the wooden slab at his head,— ' Somebody's darling slumbers here.

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