Terrible he rode alone,
With his yemen sword for aid;
Ornament it carried none
read more

Terrible he rode alone,
With his yemen sword for aid;
Ornament it carried none
But the notches on the blade.

He stands erect; his slouch becomes a walk;
He steps right onward, martial in his air,
His read more

He stands erect; his slouch becomes a walk;
He steps right onward, martial in his air,
His form and movement.

The knight's bones are dust,
And his good sword rust;
His soul is with the saints, I read more

The knight's bones are dust,
And his good sword rust;
His soul is with the saints, I trust.

The English Infantry is the most formidable in Europe, but
fortunately there is not much of it.
[Fr., read more

The English Infantry is the most formidable in Europe, but
fortunately there is not much of it.
[Fr., L'infanterie anglaise est la plus redoubtable de l"Europe;
heureusement, il n'y en a pas beaucoup.]

"Why me?" That is the soldier's first question, asked each morning as the patrols go out and each evening as read more

"Why me?" That is the soldier's first question, asked each morning as the patrols go out and each evening as the night settles around the foxholes.

Soldiers are dreamers; when the guns begin they think of firelit homes, clean beds, and wives

Soldiers are dreamers; when the guns begin they think of firelit homes, clean beds, and wives

For the army is a school in which the miser becomes generous, and
the generous prodigal; miserly soldiers are read more

For the army is a school in which the miser becomes generous, and
the generous prodigal; miserly soldiers are like monsters, but
very rarely seen.

The king of France with twenty thousand men
Went up the hill, and then came down again:
read more

The king of France with twenty thousand men
Went up the hill, and then came down again:
The king of Spain with twenty thousand more
Climbed the same hill the French had climbed before.

Earth! render back from out thy breast
A remnant of our Spartan dead!
Of the three hundred read more

Earth! render back from out thy breast
A remnant of our Spartan dead!
Of the three hundred grant but three,
To make a new Thermopylae!