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" 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 fresh and gory ; We carved not a... "
The Edinburgh Monthly Review - Página 415
1821
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The Southern literary messenger, Volume 1

1835
...scarcely inferior to that concept ion, one of the noblest of its kind in the whole compass of poetry— "We carved not a line, we raised not a stone, But we left him alone with A« glory." There are few names which can justly be relied upon, thus to speak the epitaphs of those...
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Tales of the wars; or, Naval and military chronicle, Volumes 1-2

1836
...random gun, That the foe was suddenly firing. Slowly and sadly we laid him down. From the field of lus fame fresh and gory ; We carved not a line — we...not a stone, But we left him alone with his glory. London :— Printed by JOSEPH LAST, 3, F-dwardstreet, Hampstead-rnad ; and published by WM CLARK, 19,...
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The poetic reciter; or, Beauties of the British poets: adapted for reading ...

Henry Marlen - 1838
...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 fresh and gory...stone — But we left him alone with his glory. THE CHAMELEON. OFT has it been my lot to mark A proud, conceited, talking spark, With eyes that hardly...
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The National Preceptor: Or, Selections in Prose and Poetry; Consisting of ...

Jesse Olney - 1838 - 336 páginas
...heard the distant and random gun, That the foe was suddenly firing — 8. Slowly and sadly we laid him down, From the field of his fame fresh and gory...a stone, But we left him — alone with his glory I LESSON XCVI. Boadicea* — COWPER. 1. WHEN the British warrior queen, Bleeding from the Roman rods,...
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The Rhetorical Reader: Consisting of Instructions for Regulating the Voice ...

Ebenezer Porter - 1838 - 304 páginas
...where a Briton has laid him." 7 But half of our heavy task was done, 8 ( j; ) Slowly and sadly we laid him down, From the field of his fame fresh and gory! We carved not a line, we raised not a stone, But left him — alone with his glory! Wolfe. EXERCISE 30. Eve lamenting the loss of Paradise. ( — )...
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The juvenaile poetical library; selected from the works of modern British ...

Priscilla Maden Watts - 1839
...we heard by the distant and random gun, That the foe was suddenly firing. Slowly and sadly we laid him down, From the field of his fame fresh and gory...not a stone, But we left him alone with his glory. HOME. I KNEW my father's chimney top, Though nearer to my heart than eye, And watched the blue smoke...
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The London Saturday journal, Volumes 1-4

1841
...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 ! FATAL SENSIBILITY. A TALE OF THE AFFECTIONS. FOUNDED ON FACT. CHARLES ENFIELD was the son of a respectable...
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Arundines Cami; sive, Musarum Cantabrigiensium lusus canori, collegit atque ...

Cam river - 1841
...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 fresh and gory...line, we raised not a stone, But we left him alone in his glory. WOLFE. HEY MY CHICKEN. HEY my chicken, my chicken, And hey my chicken, my deary! Such...
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The Lyre: Fugitive Poetry of the Nineteenth Century

Lyre - 1841 - 344 páginas
...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. THE WAR OF THE LEAGUE. BY THOMAS MACAULEY. Now glory to the Lord of Hosts, from whom all glories are I...
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The Lyre: Fugitive Poetry of the Nineteenth Century

Lyre - 1841 - 344 páginas
...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. V THE WAR OF THE LEAGUE. A / . BY THOMAS MACAULEY. Now glory to the Lord of Hosts, from whom all glories...
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