Some Poems by Sir Walter Scott
page 61 of 72 (84%)
page 61 of 72 (84%)
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The discipline so dreaded and admired,
In many a field of bloody conquest known, --Such may by fame be lured, by gold be hired: 'Tis constancy in the good cause alone Best justifies the meed thy valiant sons have won. THE DANCE OF DEATH. [1815.] I. Night and morning were at meeting Over Waterloo; Cocks had sung their earliest greeting; Faint and low they crew, For no paly beam yet shone On the heights of Mount Saint John; Tempest-clouds prolonged the sway Of timeless darkness over day; Whirlwind, thunder-clap, and shower Marked it a predestined hour. Broad and frequent through the night Flashed the sheets of levin-light: Muskets, glancing lightnings back, Showed the dreary bivouac Where the soldier lay, Chill and stiff, and drenched with rain, Wishing dawn of morn again, |
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