History of the Scottish regiments in the British army

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1862
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Page 138 - Heaven ! he cried, my bleeding country save ! Is there no hand on high to shield the brave ? Yet, though destruction sweep these lovely plains, Rise, fellow-men ! our country yet remains ! By that dread name we wave the sword on high ! And swear for her to live ! with her to die...
Page 315 - We few, we happy few, we band of brothers ; For he to-day that sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother ; be he ne'er so vile, This day shall gentle his condition...
Page 246 - ... of your enemies, and had gone nigh to have overturned the State in the war before the last. These men, in the last war, were brought to combat on your side : they served with fidelity as they fought with valour, and conquered for you in every part of the world : detested be the national reflections against them ! They are unjust, groundless, illiberal, unmanly.
Page 238 - How sleep the brave, who sink to rest, By all their country's wishes blest ! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod.
Page 246 - I sought for merit wherever it was to be found. It is my boast, that I was the first minister who looked for it, and found it, in the mountains of the North. I called it forth, and drew into your service a hardy and intrepid race of men...
Page 146 - MARCH, march, Ettrick and Teviotdale, Why the deil dinna ye march forward in order ! March, march, Eskdale and Liddesdale, All the Blue Bonnets are bound for the Border. Many a banner spread, Flutters above your head, Many a crest that is famous in story.
Page 101 - LOCHIEL. Lochiel, beware of the day, When the Lowlands shall meet thee in battle array! For a field of the dead rushes red on my sight, And the clans of Culloden are scattered in fight: They rally, they bleed for their kingdom and crown,— Woe, woe to the riders that trample them down! Proud Cumberland prances, insulting the slain, And their hoof-beaten bosoms are trod to the plain.
Page 288 - That's naething like leaving my love on the shore. To leave thee behind me my heart is sair pain'd, But by ease that's inglorious no fame can be gain'd : And beauty and love's the reward of the brave ; And I maun deserve it before I can crave.
Page 250 - Awake on your hills, on your islands awake, Brave sons of the mountain, the frith, and the lake ! 'Tis the bugle — but not for the chase is the call ; 'Tis the pibroch's shrill summons — but not to the halt.
Page 394 - Cameron's gathering" rose, The war-note of Lochiel, which Albyn's hills Have heard,— and heard, too, have her Saxon foes; How in the noon of night that pibroch thrills Savage and shrill! But with the breath which fills Their...

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