The Story of the Highland Regiments

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A. & C. Black, 1925 - 323 pages
 

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Page 11 - And everybody praised the Duke Who this great fight did win." " But what good came of it at last ?" Quoth little Peterkin. " Why, that I cannot tell," said he,
Page 41 - Thy spirit, Independence, let me share; Lord of the lion-heart, and eagle-eye! Thy steps I follow with my bosom bare, Nor heed the storm that howls along the sky!
Page 103 - There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital had gathered then Her Beauty and her Chivalry, and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men ; A thousand hearts beat happily ; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage bell...
Page 8 - On the head of Frederic is all the blood which was shed in a war which raged during many years and in every quarter of the globe, the blood of the column of Fontenoy, the blood of the mountaineers who were slaughtered at Culloden. The evils produced by his wickedness...
Page 8 - The evils produced by his wickedness were felt in lands where the name of Prussia was unknown ; and, in order that he might rob a neighbour whom he had promised to defend, black men fought on the coast of Coromandel, and red men scalped each other by the Great Lakes of North America...
Page 45 - Grant, the same officer, who had been scandalously beaten at Pittsburg, and had made himself so offensive in South Carolina, asserted amidst the loudest cheering, that he knew the Americans very well, and was certain they would not fight ; " that they were not soldiers and never could be made so, being naturally pusillanimous and incapable of discipline; that a very slight force would be more than sufficient for their complete reduction ;
Page 253 - I've heard them lilting at our ewe-milking, Lasses a' lilting before dawn o' day; But now they are moaning on ilka green loaning — The Flowers of the Forest are a
Page 192 - SONS of the Island Race, wherever ye dwell, Who speak of your fathers' battles with lips that burn, The deed of an alien legion hear me tell, And think not shame from the hearts ye tamed to learn, When succour shall fail and the tide for a season turn To fight with a joyful courage, a passionate pride, To die at the last as the Guides at Cabul died. For a handful of seventy men in a barrack of mud, Foodless, waterless, dwindling one by one, Answered a thousand yelling for English blood With stormy...
Page 87 - Thus ended the career of sir John Moore, a man whose uncommon capacity was sustained by the purest virtue, and governed by a disinterested patriotism more. in keeping with the primitive than the luxurious age of a great nation.
Page 130 - being now in full retreat, the spurs of the hill and the winding dale beyond became thronged with the enemy's...

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