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.

Howbeit he refused to turn aside: wherefore Abner with the
hinder end of the spear smote him under the read more

Howbeit he refused to turn aside: wherefore Abner with the
hinder end of the spear smote him under the fifth rib, that the
spear came out behind him; and he fell down there, and died in
the same place: and it came to pass, that as many as came to the
place when Asahel fell down and died stood still.

And the king of Israel answered and said, Tell him, Let not him
that girdeth on his harness boast read more

And the king of Israel answered and said, Tell him, Let not him
that girdeth on his harness boast himself as he that putteth it
off.

Our God and soldiers we alike adore ev'n at the brink of danger; not before: After deliverance, both alike requited, read more

Our God and soldiers we alike adore ev'n at the brink of danger; not before: After deliverance, both alike requited, Our God's forgotten, and our soldiers slighted

His breast with wounds unnumber'd riven,
His back to earth, his face to heaven.

His breast with wounds unnumber'd riven,
His back to earth, his face to heaven.

How sleep the brave, who sink to rest,
By all their country's wishes blest!
. . . read more

How sleep the brave, who sink to rest,
By all their country's wishes blest!
. . . .
By fairy hands their knell is rung,
By forms unseen their dirge is sung.

An Austrian army awfully arrayed.

An Austrian army awfully arrayed.

When the action was over and they were returning with joy, they
recognized Nicanor, lying dead, in full armor.

When the action was over and they were returning with joy, they
recognized Nicanor, lying dead, in full armor.

O little Force that in your agony
Stood fast while England girt her armour on,
Held high read more

O little Force that in your agony
Stood fast while England girt her armour on,
Held high our honour in your wounded hands,
Carried our honour safe with bleeding feet--
We have no glory great enough for you,
The very soul of Britain keeps your day.