{"1": {"fulltext": "^mm^\\nli^lititfliiitiiir\\nIII\\n/fl\\nPN\\nHOtBiwr:-:\\n:#\u00c2\u00abiw;?\\ni\u00c2\u00abi*1*\u00c2\u00bb\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a0MM}\\nmm\\nWM\\niijli", "height": "4781", "width": "3094", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0001.jp2"}, "2": {"fulltext": "LIBRARY OF CONGRESS.\\nChap Copyright i\\\\o\\nShelf._._,n5\\nUNITED STATES OF AMERICA.", "height": "4624", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0002.jp2"}, "3": {"fulltext": "", "height": "4637", "width": "2993", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0003.jp2"}, "4": {"fulltext": "", "height": "4631", "width": "2936", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0004.jp2"}, "5": {"fulltext": "", "height": "4621", "width": "2827", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0005.jp2"}, "6": {"fulltext": "PAUL REVERE S RIDE.", "height": "4600", "width": "2955", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0006.jp2"}, "7": {"fulltext": "A BOOK\\nOF\\nHEROIC BALLADS\\nSELECTED. BY\\nMARY W. TILESTON\\nAUTHOR OF DAILY STRENGTH FOR DAILY NEEDS,\\nthe quiet HOUR, SUGAR AND SPICE,\\nETC.\\nUllustratEli\\nBOSTON\\nLITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY", "height": "4666", "width": "2916", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0007.jp2"}, "8": {"fulltext": "53101\\nSEP 28 1900\\nOKOU DtViSHM,\\nOCT 18 190Q\\nI wish to express my thanks to Messrs. Houghton,\\nMifflin, Co. and to Messrs. D. Appileton Co. for the\\nuse of copyrighted poems, and also to the authors who\\nhave kindly allowed me to make thls;use of their poems.\\nM. W. T.\\nCopyright^ 1883,\\nBy Roberts Brothers.\\nCopyright^ 1900,\\nBy Little, Brown, and Company.\\nA II rights reserved\\nJohn Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U.S.A.", "height": "4598", "width": "2897", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0008.jp2"}, "9": {"fulltext": "CONTENTS\\nPage\\nHoRATius T. B. Macanlay i\\nThe Burial of Sir John Moore Charles Wolfe 28\\nIvRY T. B Macatday 31\\nThe Revenge Alfred Tennyson 37\\nYe Mariners of England Thotnas Campbell 45\\nSong of Marion s Men M^, C. Bryant 48\\nOld Ironsides O. W. Holmes 51\\nLochinvar Sir Walter Scott 53\\nGeorge Nidiver Anonyinons 56\\nCharge of the Lighj Brigade Alfred Tennyson 59\\nPibroch of Donuil Dhu Sir Walter Scott (jt^\\nThe Cavalier s Escape Walter Thombnry 65\\nPaul Revere s Ride H. W. Longfellow 67\\nBarbara Frietchie J- G. Whittier 73\\nSheridan s Ride Thoinas Buchanan Read 78\\nThe Relief of Lucknow Robert T S. Lowell 82\\nHow they brought the Good\\nNews from Ghent to Aix Robert Broivning 86", "height": "4637", "width": "2965", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0009.jp2"}, "10": {"fulltext": "", "height": "4562", "width": "2969", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0010.jp2"}, "11": {"fulltext": "A BOOK OF HEROIC BALLADS.\\nH O R A T I U S.\\nA LAY MADE ABOUT THE YEAR OF THE CITY CCCLX.\\nLars Porsena of Clusium\\nBy the Nine Gods he swore\\nThat the great house of Tarquin\\nShould suffer wrong no more.\\nBy the Nine Gods he swore it,\\nAnd named a trysting day,\\nAnd bade his messengers ride forth,\\nEast and west and south and north,\\nTo summon his array.\\nEast and west and south and north\\nThe messengers ride fast,\\nAnd tower and town and cottage\\nHave heard the trumpet s blast.\\nShame on the false Etruscan\\nWho lingers in his home,\\nWhen Porsena of Clusium\\nIs on the march for Rome.", "height": "4637", "width": "2912", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0011.jp2"}, "12": {"fulltext": "HORA TIUS.\\nThe horsemen and the footmen\\nAre pouring in amain,\\nFrom many a stately market-place\\nFrom many a finitful plain\\nFrom many a lonely hamlet,\\n\\\\Miich, hid by beech and pine,\\nLike an eagle s nest, hangs on the crest\\nOf purple Apennine\\nFrom lordly Volaterne,\\nWhere scowls the far-famed hold\\nPiled by the hands of giants\\nFor godlike kings of old\\nFrom seagirt Populonia,\\n\\\\Miose sentinels descr}\\nSardinia s snovsy mountain-tops\\nFringing the southern sky\\nFrom the proud mart of Pisae,\\nQueen of the western waves,\\n^^^lere ride Massilia s triremes\\nHea\\\\y with fair-haired slaves\\nFrom where sweet Clanis wanders\\nThrough com and vines and flowers\\nFrom where Cortona Hfts to heaven\\nHer diadem of towers.\\nI", "height": "4611", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0012.jp2"}, "13": {"fulltext": "H OR ATI us.\\nTall are the oaks whose acorns\\nDrop in dark Auser s rill\\nFat are the stags that champ the boughs\\nOf the Ciminian hill\\nBeyond all streams Clitumnus\\nIs to the herdsman dear\\nBest of all pools the fowler loves\\nThe great Volsinian mere.\\nBut now no stroke of woodman\\nIs heard by Auser s rill\\nNo hunter tracks the stag s green path\\nUp the Ciminian hill\\nUnwatched along Clitumnus\\nGrazes the milk-white steer\\nUnharmed the water-fowl may dip\\nIn the Volsinian mere.\\nThe harvests of Arretium\\nThis year, old men shall reap\\nThis year, young boys in Umbro\\nShall plunge the struggling sheep\\nAnd in the vats of Luna,\\nThis year, the must shall foam\\nRound the white feet of laughing girls.\\nWhose sires have marched to Rome.", "height": "4637", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0013.jp2"}, "14": {"fulltext": "HORATIl/S.\\nThere be thirty chosen prophets,\\nThe wisest of the land,\\nWho ahvay by Lars Porsena\\nBoth morn and evening stand\\nEvening and morn the Thirty\\nHave turned the verses o er,\\nTraced from the right on Hnen white\\nBy mighty seers of yore.\\nAnd with one voice the Thirty\\nHave their glad answer given\\nGo forth, go forth, Lars Porsena\\nGo forth, beloved of Heaven\\nGo, and return in glory\\nTo Clusium s royal dome\\nAnd hang round Nurscia s altars\\nThe golden shields of Rome.\\nAnd now hath every city\\nSent up her tale of men\\nThe foot are fourscore thousand,\\nThe horse are thousands ten.\\nBefore the gates of Sutrium\\nIs met the great aiTay.\\nA proud man was Lars Porsena\\nUpon the trysting day,", "height": "4615", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0014.jp2"}, "15": {"fulltext": "HORA Tiers.\\nFor all the Etruscan armies\\nWere ranged beneath his eye,\\nAnd many a banished Roman,\\nAnd many a stout ally\\nAnd with a mighty following\\nTo join the muster came\\nThe Tusculan Mamilius,\\nPrince of the Latian name.\\nBut by the yellow Tiber\\nWas tumult and affright\\nFrom all the spacious champaign\\nTo Rome men took their flight.\\nA mile around the city,\\nThe throng stopped up the ways\\nA fearful sight it was to see,\\nThrough two long nights and days.\\nFor aged folk on crutches.\\nAnd women great with child.\\nAnd mothers sobbing over babes\\nThat clung to them and smiled,\\nAnd sick men borne in litters\\nHigh on the necks of slaves,\\nAnd troops of sun-burned husbandmen\\nWith reaping-hooks and staves,", "height": "4637", "width": "2989", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0015.jp2"}, "16": {"fulltext": "HORA TIUS,\\nAnd droves of mules and asses\\nLaden with skins of wine,\\nAnd endless flocks of goats and sheep,\\nAnd endless herds of kine,\\nAnd endless trains of wagons\\nThat creaked beneath the weight\\nOf corn- sacks and of household goods,\\nChoked every roaring gate.\\nNow. from the rock Tarpeian,\\nCould the wan burghers spy\\nThe line of blazing villages\\nRed in the midnight sky.\\nThe Fathers of the Cit}\\nThey sat all night and day,\\nFor every hour some horseman came\\nWith tidings of dismay.\\nTo eastward and to westward\\nHave spread the Tuscan bands\\nXor house, nor fence, nor dovecote\\nIn Crustumerium stands.\\nVerbenna down to Ostia\\nHath wasted all the plain\\nAstur hath stormed Janiculum,\\nAnd the stout o-uards are slain.", "height": "4675", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0016.jp2"}, "17": {"fulltext": "HO RATI us,\\nI wis, in all the Senate,\\nThere was no heart so bold.\\nBut sore it ached, and fast it beat,\\nWhen that ill news was told.\\nForthwith up rose the Consul,\\nUp rose the Fathers all\\nIn haste they girded up their gowns,\\nAnd hied them to the wall.\\nThey held a council standing\\nBefore the River- Gate\\nShort time was there, ye well may guess,\\nFor musing or debate.\\nOut spake the Consul roundly\\nThe bridge must straight go down\\nFor, since Janiculum is lost.\\nNaught else can save the town.\\nJust then a scout came flying,\\nAll wild with haste and fear\\nTo arms to arms Sir Consul\\nLars Porsena is here.\\nOn the low hills to westward\\nThe Consul fixed his eye.\\nAnd saw the swarthy storm of dust\\nRise fast along the sky.", "height": "4624", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0017.jp2"}, "18": {"fulltext": "HO RATI us.\\nAnd nearer fcist and nearer\\nDoth the red whirlwind come\\nAnd louder still, and still more loud\\nFrom underneath that rolling cloud.\\nIs heard the trumpet s war-note proud.\\nThe trampling, and the hum.\\nAnd plainly and more plainly\\nNow through the gloom appeals.\\nFar to left and far to right.\\nIn broken gleams of dark-blue light.\\nThe long array of helmets bright.\\nThe long array of speais.\\nAnd plainly and more plainly.\\nAbove that glimmering line.\\nNow might ye see the banners\\nOf twelve ^ir cities shine\\nBut the banner of proud Clusium\\nWas highest of them all.\\nThe terror of the Umbrian,\\nThe terror of the GauL\\nAnd plainly and more plainl}^\\nNow might the burghers know.\\nBy port and vest, by horse and crest,\\nE^h warlike Lucomo.", "height": "4603", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0018.jp2"}, "19": {"fulltext": "HORA TIUS.\\nThere Cilnius of Arretium\\nOn his fleet roan was seen\\nAnd Astur of the fourfold shield\\nGirt with the brand none else may wield\\nTolumnius with the belt of gold\\nAnd dark Verbenna from the hold\\nBy reedy Thrasymene.\\nFast by the royal standard,\\nO erlooking all the war,\\nLars Porsena of Clusium\\nSat in his ivory car.\\nBy the right wheel rode Mamilius,\\nPrince of the Latian name\\nAnd by the left, false Sextus,\\nThat wrought the deed of shame.\\nBut when the face of Sextus\\nWas seen among the foes,\\nA yell that rent the firmament\\nFrom all the town arose.\\nOn the house-tops was no woman\\nBut spat towards him and hissed\\nNo child but screamed out curses,\\nAnd shook its little fist.", "height": "4637", "width": "3001", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0019.jp2"}, "20": {"fulltext": "lo HORA TIUS,\\nBut the Consul s brow was sad,\\nAnd the Consul s speech was low,\\nAnd darkly looked he at the wall,\\nAnd darkly at the foe.\\nTheir van will be upon us\\nBefore the bridge goes down\\nAnd if they once may win the bridge,\\nWhat hope to save the town?\\nThen out spake brave Horatius,\\nThe Captain of the Gate\\nTo every man upon this earth\\nDeath cometh soon or late.\\nAnd how can man die better\\nThan facing fearful odds,\\nFor the ashes of his fathers\\nAnd the temples of his Gods,\\nAnd for the tender mother\\nWho dandled him to rest,\\nAnd for the wife who nurses\\nHis baby at her breast,\\nAnd for the holy maidens\\nWho feed the eternal flame,\\nTo sa\\\\^e them from false Sextus\\nThat wrousfht the deed of shame", "height": "4671", "width": "2988", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0020.jp2"}, "21": {"fulltext": "HO RATI us. II\\nHew down the bridge, Sir Consul,\\nWith all the speed ye may\\n1, with two more to help me,\\nWill hold the foe in play.\\nIn yon strait path a thousand\\nMay well be stopped by three.\\nNow who will stand on either hand,\\nAnd keep the bridge with me?\\nThen out spake Spurius Lartius\\nA Ramnian proud was he\\nLo, I will stand at thy right hand,\\nAnd keep the bridge with thee.\\nAnd out spake strong Herminius\\nOf Titian blood was he\\nI will abide on thy left side.\\nAnd keep the bridge with thee.\\nHoratius, quoth the Consul,\\nAs thou sayest, so let it be.\\nAnd straight against that great array\\nForth went the dauntless Three.\\nFor Romans in Rome s quarrel\\nSpared neither land nor gold,\\nNor son nor wife, nor limb nor life.\\nIn the brave days of old.", "height": "4637", "width": "2945", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0021.jp2"}, "22": {"fulltext": "12 MORA TICS,\\nThen none was for a part}\\nThen all were for the state\\nThen the great man helped the poor,\\nAnd the poor man loved the great\\nThen lands were fairly portioned\\nThen spoils were fairly sold\\nThe Romans were like brothers\\nIn the brave davs of old.\\nNow Roman is to Roman\\nMore hateful than a foe,\\nAnd the Tribmies beard the high,\\nAnd the Fathers grind the low.\\nAs we wax hot in faction.\\nIn battle we wax cold\\nWherefore men fight not as they fought\\nIn the bra^ e davs of old.\\nNow while the Three were tightening\\nTheir harness on their backs,\\nThe Consul was the foremost man\\nTo take in hand an axe\\nAnd Fathers mixed with Commons\\nSeized hatchet, bar. and crow,\\nAnd smote upon the planks above,\\nAnd loosed the props below.", "height": "4670", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0022.jp2"}, "23": {"fulltext": "H R A T I U S.\\nThe Three stood calm and silent\\nAnd looked upon the foes.", "height": "4666", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0023.jp2"}, "24": {"fulltext": "14 HO RATI US,\\nMeanwhile the Tuscan army,\\nRight glorious to behold,\\nCame flashing back the noonday light,\\nRank behind rank, like surges bright\\nOf a broad sea of gold.\\nFour hundred trumpets sounded\\nA peal of warlike glee,\\nAs that great host, with measured tread,\\nAnd spears advanced, and ensigns spread,\\nRolled slowly towards the bridge s head,\\nWhere stood the dauntless Three.\\nThe Three stood calm and silent\\nAnd looked upon the foes,\\nAnd a great shout of laughter\\nFrom all the vanguard rose\\nAnd forth three chiefs came spurring\\nBefore that deep array\\nTo earth they sprang, their sw^ords they drew,\\nAnd lifted high their shields, and flew\\nTo win the narrow way\\nAnnus from green Tifernum,\\nLord of the Hill of Vines\\nAnd Seius, whose eight hundred slaves\\nSicken in Ilva s mines\\n1", "height": "4666", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0024.jp2"}, "25": {"fulltext": "HO RATI us. IS\\nAnd Picus, long to Clusium\\nVassal in peace and war,\\nWho led to fight his Umbrian powers\\nFrom that gray crag where, girt with towers,\\nThe fortress of Nequinum lowers\\nO er the pale waves of Nar.\\nStout Lartius hurled down Annus\\nInto the stream beneath\\nHerminius struck at Seius,\\nAnd clove him to the teeth\\nAt Picus brave Horatius\\nDarted one fiery thrust\\nAnd the proud Umbrian s gilded arms\\nClashed in the bloody dust.\\nThen Ocnus of Falerii\\nRushed on the Roman Three\\nAnd Lausulus of Urgo,\\nThe rover of the sea\\nAnd Aruns of Volsinium,\\nWho slew the great wild boar,\\nThe great wild boar that had his den\\nAmidst the reeds of Cosa s fen.\\nAnd wasted fields, and slaughtered men,\\nAlong Albinia s shore.", "height": "4637", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0025.jp2"}, "26": {"fulltext": "i6 HORATEUS.\\nITttitmimiiias sanote dbwn Arum?\\nUaitMits Ibnd Ocaios loir\\nR^ht to the heart of TamFwlnts\\nHoDttiaK ssnl: 21 blow.\\nIiedieie, he cxied^ feSlpiiale!\\nNo JSMX^ s^iast and pole^\\nFnxn Ostia^ s walls the oowd dial\\nllie ttiadk: of A^ destiofii^ bonk\\nNo move CaoipanHL s hso^ shal\\nTo wiods and cskcois when diej ^^y\\nTfaj dske-accsiiaai soL\\nHnt DOW DO soimd of lang^Tter\\nWas beard among the foes.\\nA irild and uratbifnl cLamoior\\nFrom all liie vaiogiiard rose.\\nSis speais lengtii fiiodim die eD amoe\\nHalted that deep aaray.\\nAnd for a f^aoe dc^ man anarne ibrth\\nBodt hadL I dfte oj is A\u00c2\u00a3imr;\\nAndlo! dieiaaiksdfiwide;\\nAnd die gieat Laid of Lmsai\\nwidi hk staiefy stEJide.", "height": "4681", "width": "3116", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0026.jp2"}, "27": {"fulltext": "HO RATI us, 17\\nUpon his ample shoulders\\nClangs loud the fourfold shield,\\nAnd in his hand he shakes the brand\\nWhich none but he can wield.\\nHe smiled on those bold Romans\\nA smile serene and high\\nHe eyed the flinching Tuscans,\\nAnd scorn was in his eye.\\nQuoth he The she-wolfs litter\\nStand savagely at bay\\nBut will ye dare to follow\\nIf Astur clears the way?\\nThen, whirling up his broadsword\\nWith both hands to the height.\\nHe rushed against Horatius,\\nAnd smote with all his might.\\nWith shield and blade Horatius\\nRight deftly turned the blow.\\nThe blow, though turned, came yet too nigh\\nIt missed his helm, but gashed his thigh\\nThe Tuscans raised a joyful cry\\nTo see the red blood flow.", "height": "4637", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0027.jp2"}, "28": {"fulltext": "HO R A TILTS.\\nHe reeled, and on Herminius\\nHe leaned one breathing-space\\nThen, like a wild- cat mad with wounds,\\nSprang right at Astur s face.\\nThrough teeth, and skull, and helmet.\\nSo fierce a thrust he sped.\\nThe good sword stood a hand-breadth out\\nBehind the Tuscan s head.\\nAnd the great Lord of Luna\\nFell at that deadly stroke.\\nAs falls on Mount Alvernus\\nA thunder- smitten oak.\\nFar o er the crashing forest\\nThe giant arms lie spread\\nAnd the pale augurs, muttering low,\\nGaze on the blasted head.\\nOn Astur s throat Horatius\\nRight firmly pressed his heel,\\nAnd thrice and four times tugged amain.\\nEre he wrenched out the steel.\\nAnd see, he cried, the welcome,\\nFair guests, that waits you here\\nWhat noble Lucomo comes next.\\nTo taste our Roman cheer?", "height": "4678", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0028.jp2"}, "29": {"fulltext": "HORA TIUS. 19\\nBut at his haughty challenge\\nA sullen murmur ran,\\nMingled of wrath, and shame, and dread,\\nAlong that glittering van.\\nThere lacked not men of prowess,\\nNor men of lordly race\\nFor all Etruria s noblest\\nWere round the fatal place.\\nBut all Etruria s noblest\\nFelt their hearts sink to see\\nOn the earth the bloody corpses,\\nIn the path the dauntless Three\\nAnd, from the ghastly entrance\\nWhere those bold Romans stood,\\nAll shrank, like boys who unaware.\\nRanging the woods to start a hare.\\nCome to the mouth of the dark lair\\nWhere, growling low, a fierce old bear\\nLies amidst bones and blood.\\nWas none who would be foremost\\nTo lead such dire attack\\nBut those behind cried Forward\\nAnd those before cried Back", "height": "4637", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0029.jp2"}, "30": {"fulltext": "20 HORATIUS,\\nAnd backward now and fonvard\\nWavers the deep array\\nAnd on the tossing sea of steel,\\nTo and fro the standards reel\\nAnd the victorious trumpet-peal\\nDies fitfully away.\\nYet one man for one moment\\nStrode out before the crowd\\nWell known was he to all the Three,\\nAnd they gave him greeting loud.\\nNow welcome, w^elcome, Sextus\\nNow welcome to thy home\\nWhy dost thou stay and turn away\\nHere lies the road to Rome.\\nThrice looked he at the city\\nThrice looked he at the dead\\nAnd thrice came on in fury,\\nAnd thrice turned back in dread\\nAnd, white with fear and hatred.\\nScowled at the narrow w^y\\nWhere, wallowing in a pool of blood.\\nThe bravest Tuscans lay.", "height": "4637", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0030.jp2"}, "31": {"fulltext": "HORA TIUS, 21\\nBut meanwhile axe and lever\\nHave manfully been plied,\\nAnd now the bridge hangs tottering\\nAbove the boiling tide.\\nCome back, come back, Horatius\\nLoud cried the Fathers all\\nBack, Lartius back, Herminius\\nBack, ere the ruin fall\\nBack darted Spurius Lartius\\nHerminius darted back\\nAnd, as they passed, beneath their feet\\nThey heard the timbers crack.\\nBut when they turned their faces,\\nAnd on the farther shore\\nSaw brave Horatius stand alone.\\nThey would have crossed once more.\\nBut with a crash like thunder\\nFell every loosened beam,\\nAnd, like a dam, the mighty wreck\\nLay right athwart the stream\\nAnd a long shout of triumph\\nRose from the walls of Rome,\\nAs to the highest turret-tops\\nWas splashed the yellow foam.", "height": "4637", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0031.jp2"}, "32": {"fulltext": "22\\nHORA TIUS.\\nAnd, like a horse unbroken\\nWhen first he feels the rein,\\nThe furious river struggled hard.\\nAnd tossed his tawny mane,\\nAnd burst the curb, and bounded,\\nRejoicing to be free,\\nAnd whirling down, in fierce career,\\nBattlement, and plank, and pier,\\nRushed headlong to the sea.\\nAlone stood brave Horatius,\\nBut constant still in mind\\nThrice thirty thousand foes before.\\nAnd the broad flood behind.\\nDown with him cried false Sextus,\\nWith a smile on his pale face.\\nNow yield thee, cried Lars Porsena,\\nNow yield thee to our grace.\\nRound turned he, as not deigning\\nThose craven ranks to see\\nNaught spake he to Lars Porsena,\\nTo Sextus naught spake he\\nBut he saw on Palatinus\\nThe white porch of his home\\nAnd he spake to the noble river\\nThat rolls by the towers of Rome.", "height": "4637", "width": "3117", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0032.jp2"}, "33": {"fulltext": "HORA TIUS.\\nO Tiber Father Tiber\\nTo whom the Romans pray,\\nA Roman s Hfe, a Roman s arms,\\nTake thou in charge this day\\nSo he spake, and speaking sheathed\\nThe good sword by his side,\\nAnd with his harness on his back,\\nPlunged headlong in the tide.\\nNo sound of joy or sorrow\\nWas heard from either bank\\nBut friends and foes in dumb surprise.\\nWith parted lips and straining eyes,\\nStood gazing where he sank\\nAnd when above the surges\\nThey saw his crest appear.\\nAll Rome sent forth a rapturous cry,\\nAnd even the ranks of Tuscany\\nCould scarce forbear to cheer.\\nBut fiercely ran the current,\\nSwollen high by months of rain\\nAnd fast his blood was flowing\\nAnd he was sore in pain,", "height": "4637", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0033.jp2"}, "34": {"fulltext": "HORA TIUS,\\nAnd heavy with his armor,\\nAnd spent with changing blows\\nAnd oft they thought him sinking,\\nBut still again he rose.\\nNever, I ween, did swimmer.\\nIn such an evil case,\\nStruggle through such a raging flood\\nSafe to the landing-place\\nBut his limbs were borne up bravely\\nBy the brave heart within,\\nAnd our good Father Tiber\\nBare bravely up his chin.\\nCurse on him quoth false Sextus\\nWill not the villain drown\\nBut for this stay, ere close of day\\nWe should have sacked the town\\nHeaven help him quoth Lars Porsena,\\nAnd bring him safe to shore\\nFor such a gallant feat of arms\\nWas never seen before.\\nAnd now he feels the bottom\\nNow on dry earth he stands", "height": "4637", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0034.jp2"}, "35": {"fulltext": "HORA TIUS. 25\\nNow round him throng the Fathers\\nTo press his gory hands\\nAnd now, with shouts and clapping,\\nAnd noise of weeping loud,\\nHe enters through the River-Gate,\\nBorne by the joyous crowd.\\nThey gave him of the corn-land,\\nThat was of public right,\\nAs much as two strong oxen\\nCould plough from morn till night\\nAnd they made a molten image,\\nAnd set it up on high.\\nAnd there it stands unto this day\\nTo witness if I lie.\\nIt stands in the Comitium,\\nPlain for all folk to see\\nHoratius in his harness.\\nHalting upon one knee\\nAnd underneath is written.\\nIn letters all of gold.\\nHow valiantly he kept the bridge\\nIn the brave days of old.", "height": "4637", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0035.jp2"}, "36": {"fulltext": "26 HORA TIUS.\\nAnd still his name sounds stirring\\nUnto the men of Rome,\\nAs the trumpet-blast that cries to them\\nTo charge the Volscian home\\nAnd wives still pray to Juno\\nFor boys with hearts as bold\\nAs his who kept the bridge so well\\nIn the brave days of old.\\nAnd in the nights of winter,\\nWhen the cold north winds blow,\\nAnd the long howling of the wolves\\nIs heard amidst the snow\\nWhen round the lonely cottage\\nRoars loud the tempest s din,\\nAnd the good logs of Algidus\\nRoar louder yet within\\nWhen the oldest cask is opened,\\nAnd the largest lamp is lit\\nWhen the chestnuts glow in the embers,\\nAnd the kid turns on the spit\\nWhen young and old in circle\\nAround the firebrands close\\nWhen the girls are weaving baskets,\\nAnd the lads are shaping bows", "height": "4636", "width": "3137", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0036.jp2"}, "37": {"fulltext": "HORATIUS,\\n27\\nWhen the goodman mends his armor,\\nAnd trims his helmet s plume\\nWhen the goodwife s shuttle merrily\\nGoes flashing through the loom\\nWith weeping and with laughter\\nStill is the story told,\\nHow well Horatius kept the bridge\\nIn the brave days of old.\\nThomas Babington Macaulay.", "height": "4637", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0037.jp2"}, "38": {"fulltext": "THE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE.\\n1809.\\nNot a drum was heard, not a funeral note,\\nAs his corse to the rampart we hurried\\nNot a soldier discharged his farewell shot\\nO er the grave where our hero we buried.\\nWe buried him darkly at dead of night,\\nThe sod with our bayonets turning\\nBy the struggling moonbeam s misty light,\\nAnd the lantern dimly burning.\\nNo useless coffin enclosed his breast,\\nNot in sheet nor in shroud we wound him\\nBut he lay like a warrior taking his rest.\\nWith his martial cloak around him\\nFew and short were the prayers we said.\\nAnd we spoke not a word of sorrow\\nBut we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead,\\nAnd we bitterly thought of the morrow.\\nI", "height": "4688", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0038.jp2"}, "39": {"fulltext": "y V,\\nTHE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE.\\nSlowly and sadly we laid him down,\\nFrom the field (if his fame fresh and gory.", "height": "4637", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0039.jp2"}, "40": {"fulltext": "30 BURIAL OF SIR JOHX MOORE.\\nWe thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed.\\nAnd smoothed down his lonely pillow.\\nThat the foe and tlie stranger would tread o er his\\nhead.\\nAnd we far away on the billow\\nLightly they II talk of the spirit that s gone.\\nAnd o er his cold ashes upbraid him\\nBut little he 11 reck if they let him sleep on,\\nIn the grave where a Briton has laid him.\\nBut half of our heavy task was done,\\nWhen the clock struck the hour for retiring\\nAnd we heard the distant random gun\\nThat the foe was sullenly firing.\\nSlowly and sadly we laid him down,\\nFrom the field of his fame fresh and gor}*\\nWe caned not a line, and we raised not a stone\\nBut we left him alone with his glor\\nCharles Wolfe.", "height": "4637", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0040.jp2"}, "41": {"fulltext": "IVRY.\\n1590\\nNow glory to the Lord of Hosts, from whom all\\nglories are\\nAnd glory to our Sovereign Liege, King Henry of\\nNavarre\\nNow let there be the merry sound of music and of\\ndance,\\nThrough thy corn-fields green, and sunny vines, O\\npleasant land of France.\\nAnd thou Rochelle, our own Rochelle, proud city\\nof the waters,\\nAgain let rapture light the eyes of all thy mourning\\ndaughters.\\nAs thou wert constant in our ills, be joyous in our\\njoy,\\nFor cold, and stiff, and still are they who wrought\\nthy walls annoy.\\nHurrah Hurrah a single field hath turned the\\nchance of war.\\nHurrah Hurrah for Ivry, and Henry of Navarre.", "height": "4603", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0041.jp2"}, "42": {"fulltext": "32 IVRV.\\nOh how our hearts were beating, when, at the\\ndawn of day,\\nWe saw the army of the League drawn out in long\\narray\\nWith all its priest-led citizens, and all its rebel\\npeers,\\nAnd Appenzel s stout infantry, and Egmont s Flem-\\nish spears.\\nThere rode the brood of false Lorraine, the curses\\nof our land\\nAnd dark Mayenne was in their midst, a truncheon\\nin his hand\\nAnd, as we looked on them, we thought of Seine s\\nempurpled flood.\\nAnd good Coligni s hoary hair all dabbled with his\\nblood\\nAnd we cried unto the hving God, who rules the\\nfate of war.\\nTo fight for his own holy name, and Henry of\\nNavarre.\\nThe Kmg is come to marshal us, m all his armor\\ndrest.\\nAnd he has bound a snow-white plume upon his*\\ngallant crest.\\nHe looked upon his people and a tear was in his\\neye;", "height": "4591", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0042.jp2"}, "43": {"fulltext": "IVRY. 33\\nHe looked upon the traitors, and his glance was\\nstern and high.\\nRight graciously he smiled on us, as rolled from\\nwing to wing,\\nDown all our line, a deafening shout, God save\\nour Lord the King.\\nAn if my standard-bearer fall, as fall full well he\\nmay,\\nFor never saw I promise yet of such a bloody fray.\\nPress where ye see my white plume shine, amidst\\nthe ranks of war,\\nAnd be your oriflamme to-day the helmet of\\nNavarre.\\nHurrah the foes are moving. Hark to the min-\\ngled din.\\nOf fife, and steed, and trump, and drum, and roar-\\ning culverin.\\nThe fiery Duke is pricking fast across Saint Andre s\\nplain,\\nWith all the hireling chivalry of Guelders and\\nAlmayne.\\nNow by the lips of those ye love, fair gentlemen\\nof France,\\nCharge for the golden lilies, upon them with the\\nlance.\\nA thousand spurs arc striking deep, a thousand\\nspears in rest,", "height": "4624", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0043.jp2"}, "44": {"fulltext": "34 IVRV.\\nA thousand knights are pressing close behind the\\nsnow-white crest\\nAnd in they burst, and on they rushed, while, like\\na guiding star,\\nAmidst the thickest carnage blazed the helmet of\\nNavarre.\\nNow, God be praised, the day is ours. Mayenne\\nhath turned his rein.\\nD Aumale hath cried for quarter. The Flemish\\ncount is slain.\\nTheir ranks are breaking like thin clouds before a\\nBiscay gale\\nThe field is heaped with bleeding steeds, and flags,\\nand cloven mail.\\nAnd then we thought on vengeance, and all along\\nour van,\\nRemember Saint Bartholomew, was passed from\\nman to man.\\nBut out spake gentle Henry, No Frenchman is\\nmy foe\\nDown, down with every foreigner, but let your\\nbrethren go.\\nOh was there ever such a knight, in friendship\\nor in war.\\nAs our Sovereign Lord, King Henry, the soldier of\\nNavarre", "height": "4604", "width": "3117", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0044.jp2"}, "45": {"fulltext": "IVRY. 35\\nRight well fought all the Frenchmen who fought\\nfor France to-day\\nAnd many a lordly banner God gave them for a\\nprey;\\nBut we of the religion have borne us best in fight\\nAnd the good Lord of Rosny hath ta en the cornet\\nwhite.\\nOur own true Maximilian, the cornet white hath\\nta en,\\nThe cornet white with crosses black, the flag of\\nfalse Lorraine.\\nUp with it high unfurl it wide that all the host\\nmay know\\nHow God hath humbled the proud house which\\nwrought his church such woe\\nThen on the ground, while trumpets sound their\\nloudest point of war,\\nFling the red shreds, a foot-cloth meet for Henry\\nof Navarre.\\nHo maidens of Vienna Ho matrons of Lu-\\ncerne\\nWeep, weep, and rend your hair for those who\\nnever shall return.\\nHo Philip, send, for charity, thy Mexican pistoles,\\nThat Antwerp monks may sing a mass for thy poor\\nspearmen s souls.", "height": "4625", "width": "2995", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0045.jp2"}, "46": {"fulltext": "36 IVRV.\\nHo I gallant nobles of the League, look that your\\narms be bright\\nHo burghers of Saint Genevieve, keep watch and\\nward to-night.\\nFor our God hath crushed the t)Tant, our God hath\\nraised the slave,\\nAnd mocked the counsel of the wise, and the valor\\nof the brave.\\nThen glory to his holy name, from whom all glories\\nare,\\nAnd glor} to our Sovereign Lord, King Henry of\\nNavarre.\\nThomas Babington Macaulay.", "height": "4537", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0046.jp2"}, "47": {"fulltext": "THE REVENGE.\\nA Ballad of the Fleet.\\nAugust, 1591.\\nAt Flores in the Azores, Sir Richard Grenville lay,\\nAnd a pinnace, like a fluttered bird, came flying\\nfrom far away\\nSpanish ships-of-war at sea we have sighted\\nfifty-three\\nThen sware Lord Thomas Howard Fore God I\\nam no coward\\nBut I cannot meet them here, for my ships are out\\nof gear,\\nAnd the half my men are sick. I must fly, but\\nfollow quick.\\nWe are six ships of the Hne can we fight with\\nfifty^three?\\nThen spake Sir Richard Grenville I know you are\\nno coward\\nYou fly them for a moment to fight with them again.\\nBut I Ve ninety men and more that are lying sick\\nashore.", "height": "4623", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0047.jp2"}, "48": {"fulltext": "38 THE REVENGE,\\nI should count myself the coward if I left them, my\\nLord Howard,\\nTo these Inquisition dogs and the devildoms of\\nSpain.\\nSo Lord Howard past away with five ships of war\\nthat day,\\nTill he melted like a cloud in the silent summer\\nheaven\\nBut Sir Richard bore in hand all his sick men from\\nthe land\\nVery carefully and slow,\\nMen of Bideford in Devon,\\nAnd we laid them on the ballast down below\\nFor we brought them all aboard.\\nAnd they blest him in their pain, that they w^re\\nnot left to Spain,\\nTo the thumbscrew and the stake, for the glory of\\nthe Lord.\\nHe had only a hundred seamen to work the ship\\nand to fight.\\nAnd he sailed away from Flores till the Spaniard\\ncame in sight.\\nWith his huge sea-castles hea\\\\ing upon the weather\\nbow.", "height": "4593", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0048.jp2"}, "49": {"fulltext": "THE REVENGE.\\n39\\nShall we fight or shall we fly?\\nGood Sir Richard, tell us now,\\nFor to fight is but to die\\nThere 11 be little of us left by the time this sun be set.\\nAnd Sir Richard said again We be all good\\nEngHsh men.\\nLet us bang these dogs of Seville, the children of\\nthe devil.\\nFor I never turned my back upon Don or devil yet.\\nSir Richard spoke and he laughed, and we roared a\\nhurrah, and so\\nThe little Revenge ran on sheer into the heart of\\nthe foe,\\nWith her hundred fighters on deck, and her ninety\\nsick below\\nFor half of their fleet to the right and half to the\\nleft were seen,\\nAnd the little Revenge ran on through the long sea-\\nlane between.\\nThousands of their soldiers looked down from their\\ndecks and laughed,\\nThousands of their seamen made mock at the mad\\nlittle craft\\nRunning on and on, till delayed", "height": "4600", "width": "2954", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0049.jp2"}, "50": {"fulltext": "40 THE REVENGE.\\nBy their mountain-like San Philip that, of fifteen\\nhundred tons,\\nAnd up- shadowing high above us with her yawTiing\\ntiers of guns,\\nTook the breath from our sails, and we stayed.\\nAnd while now the great San Philip hung above us\\nlike a cloud,\\nWhence the thunderbolt will fall\\nLong and loud,\\nFour galleons drew away\\nFrom the Spanish fleet that day,\\nAnd two upon the larboard and two upon the star-\\nboard lay,\\nAnd the battle -thunder broke from them all.\\nBut anon the great San Philip, she bethought her-\\nself and went.\\nHaving that within her womb that had left her ill-\\ncontent\\nAnd the rest they came aboard us, and they fought\\nus hand to hand.\\nFor a dozen times they came with their pikes and\\nmusqueteers,\\nAnd a dozen times we shook em off as a dog that\\nshakes his ears,\\nWhen he leaps from the water to the land.", "height": "4574", "width": "3124", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0050.jp2"}, "51": {"fulltext": "THE REVENGE, 41\\nAnd the sun went down, and the stars came out far\\nover the summer sea,\\nBut never a moment ceased the fight of the one\\nand the fifty-three.\\nShip after ship, the whole night long, their high-\\nbuilt galleons came.\\nShip after ship, the whole night long, with her\\nbattle-thunder and flame\\nShip after ship, the whole night long, drew back\\nwith her dead and her shame.\\nFor some were sunk and many were shattered, and\\nso could fight us no more\\nGod of battles, was ever a battle hke this in the\\nworld before\\nFor he said Fight on fight on\\nThough his vessel was all but a wreck\\nAnd it chanced that, when half of the summer night\\nwas gone.\\nWith a grisly wound to be drest, he had left the\\ndeck,\\nBut a bullet struck him that was dressing it sud-\\ndenly dead,\\nAnd himself, he was wounded again in the side and\\nthe head.\\nAnd he said Fight on fight on", "height": "4622", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0051.jp2"}, "52": {"fulltext": "42 THE -^_r;3.v,\\nAnd the m^hit wer: ._-:\\nus affl in aoi^\\nZ isied noi: toodi IB agiiii, ibr Ihej feared\\nfl could sio^\\nT f idnat die end would be.\\nA:l_ ___ _: Hr .7 :-i~\u00c2\u00bb^ lor fife\\nIn die cza^ 7 and die des^eiate\\nAnd dieskk men down in die hold were moESt of\\ndiem siad^ and ooU,\\nAt c! i3ie pikes were al Iscilaen or benB;, and die\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2Dwder was affl erf it ^ent;\\n:sisand dieii^gp^were^^ingOferdiesBde\\nI M oied m Ub fiji^feii pride^\\n^7 ditsnfiiaL^ii^laraidagfandani^tf.\\nAs ma^ never be fooj^bi: a^un\\nWe haie won ^nealt ^kvy, ni^ men\\nAnd a da^ kss or more\\nAt sea or ^hore.\\nWe dSe does it matter wiien?\\nSank me die sbi^ liasier GmnKr sidkho; ^Et\\ntwain\\nJ:^ je bandb of God, not mio die ban^ of", "height": "4637", "width": "3149", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0052.jp2"}, "53": {"fulltext": "THE REVENGE, 43\\nAnd the gunner said Ay, ay, but the seamen\\nmade reply\\nWe have children, we have wives.\\nAnd the Lord hath spared our lives.\\nWe will make the Spaniard promise, if we yield, to\\nlet us go\\nWe shall live to fight again and to strike another blow.\\nAnd the lion there lay dying, and they yielded to\\nthe foe.\\nAnd the stately Spanish men to their flagship bore\\nhim then.\\nWhere they laid him by the mast, old Sir Richard\\ncaught at last.\\nAnd they praised him to his face with their courtly\\nforeign grace\\nEut he rose upon their decks, and he cried\\nI have fought for Queen and Faith like a valiant\\nman and true\\nI have only done my duty as a man is bound to do\\nWith a joyful spirit I, Sir Richard Grenville, die\\nAnd he fell upon their decks, and he died.\\nAnd they stared at the dead that had been so\\nvaliant and true.\\nAnd had holden the power and glory of Spain so\\ncheap", "height": "4593", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0053.jp2"}, "54": {"fulltext": "44 THE REVENGE,\\nThat he dared her with one little ship and his\\nEnglish few\\nWas he devil or man? He was devil for aught\\nthey knew,\\nBut they sank his body with honor down into the\\ndeep,\\nAnd they manned the Revenge with a swarthier,\\nalien crew,\\nAnd away she sailed with her loss and longed for\\nher own\\nWhen a wind from the lands they had ruined awoke\\nfrom sleep,\\nAnd the water began to heave and the weather to\\nmoan.\\nAnd or ever that evening ended, a great gale blew.\\nAnd a wave like the wave that is raised by an earth-\\nquake grew,\\nTill it smote on their hulls and their sails and their\\nmasts and their flags,\\nAnd the whole sea plunged and fell on the shot-\\nshattered navy of Spain,\\nAnd the little Revenge herself went down by the\\nisland crags.\\nTo be lost evermore in the main.\\nAlfred Tennyson.", "height": "4669", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0054.jp2"}, "55": {"fulltext": "YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND.\\nYe Mariners of England\\nThat guard our native seas\\nWhose flag has braved a thousand years\\nThe battle and the breeze\\nYour glorious standard launch again\\nTo match another foe\\nAnd sweep through the deep,\\nWhile the stormy winds do blow\\nWhile the battle rages loud and long,\\nAnd the stormy winds do blow.\\nThe spirits of your fathers\\nShall start from every wave\\nFor the deck it was their field of fame.\\nAnd Ocean was their grave\\nWhere Blake and mighty Nelson fell,\\nYour manly hearts shall glow.\\nAs ye sweep through the deep,\\nWhile the stormy winds do blow\\nWhile the battle rages loud and long,\\nAnd the stormy winds do blow.", "height": "4637", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0055.jp2"}, "56": {"fulltext": "YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND.\\nWhose flag has braved a thousand years\\nThe battle and the breeze.", "height": "4676", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0056.jp2"}, "57": {"fulltext": "YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND, 47\\nBritannia needs no bulwarks,\\nNo towers along the steep\\nHer march is o er the mountain-waves,\\nHer home is on the deep.\\nWith thunders from her native oak,\\nShe quells the floods below,\\nAs they roar on the shore,\\nWhen the stormy winds do blow\\nWhen the battle rages loud and long,\\nAnd the stormy winds do blow.\\nThe meteor flag of England\\nShall yet terrific burn\\nTill danger s troubled night depart,\\nAnd the star of peace return.\\nThen, then, ye ocean-warriors\\nOur song and feast shall flow\\nTo the fame of your name.\\nWhen the storm has ceased to blow\\nWhen the fiery fight is heard no more.\\nAnd the storm has ceased to blow.\\nThomas Campdell,", "height": "4610", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0057.jp2"}, "58": {"fulltext": "SONG OF MARION S MEN.\\n1780- 1781\\nOur band is few, but true and tried,\\nOur leader frank and bold\\nThe British soldier trembles\\nWhen Marion s name is told.\\nOur fortress is the good greenwood,\\nOur tent the cypress-tree\\nWe know the forest round us,\\nAs seamen know the sea\\nWe know its walks of thorny vines,\\nIts glades of reedy grass,\\nIts safe and silent islands\\nWithin the dark morass.\\nWoe to the English soldiery\\nThat little dread us near\\nOn them shall light at midnight\\nA strange and sudden fear\\nWhen, waking to their tents on fire,\\nThey grasp their arms in vain,", "height": "4629", "width": "2799", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0058.jp2"}, "59": {"fulltext": "SONG OF MARION S MEN. 49\\nAnd they who stand to face us\\nAre beat to earth again\\nAnd they who fly in terror deem\\nA mighty host behind,\\nAnd hear the tramp of thousands\\nUpon the hollow wind.\\nThen sweet the hour that brings release\\nFrom danger and from toil\\nWe talk the battle over.\\nAnd share the battle s spoil.\\nThe woodland rings with laugh and shout,\\nAs if a hunt were up.\\nAnd woodland flowers are gathered\\nTo crown the soldier s cup.\\nWith merry songs we mock the wind\\nThat in the pine-top grieves.\\nAnd slumber long and sweetly\\nOn beds of oaken leaves.\\nWell knows the fair and friendly moon\\nThe band that Marion leads\\nThe glitter of their rifles.\\nThe scampering of their steeds.\\nT is life to guide the fiery barb\\nAcross the moonlight plain\\nTis life to feel the night-wind\\nThat lifts his tossing mane.", "height": "4610", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0059.jp2"}, "60": {"fulltext": "50\\nSONG OF MARION S MEN.\\nA moment in the British camp\\nA moment and away,\\nBack to the pathless forest,\\nBefore the peep of day.\\nGrave men there are by broad Santee,\\nGrave men with hoary hairs\\nTheir hearts are all with Marion,\\nFor Marion are their prayers.\\nAnd lovely ladies greet our band,\\nWith kindest welcoming,\\nWith smiles like those of summer,\\nAnd tears like those of spring.\\nFor them we wear these trusty arms,\\nAnd lay them down no more\\nTill we have driven the Briton,\\nForever, from our shore.\\nWilliam Cullen Bryant.", "height": "4637", "width": "2979", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0060.jp2"}, "61": {"fulltext": "OLD IRONSIDES.\\nAy, tear her tattered ensign down\\nLong has it waved on high,\\nAnd many an eye has danced to see\\nThat banner in the sky\\nBeneath it rung the battle shout,\\nAnd burst the cannon s roar,\\nThe meteor of the ocean air\\nShall sweep the clouds no more\\nHer deck, once red with heroes blood.\\nWhere knelt the vanquished foe,\\nWhen winds were hurrying o er the flood.\\nAnd waves were white below.\\nNo more shall feel the victor s tread,\\nOr know the conquered knee\\nThe harj)ips of the shore shall pluck\\nThe eai/lc of the sea", "height": "4601", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0061.jp2"}, "62": {"fulltext": "52\\nOLD IRONSIDES.\\nO better that her shattered hulk\\nShould sink beneath the wave\\nHer thunders shook the mighty deep,\\nAnd there should be her grave\\nNail to the mast her holy flag,\\nSet every threadbare sail,\\nAnd give her to the god of storms,\\nThe lightning and the gale\\nOliver Wendell Holmes.", "height": "4571", "width": "3109", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0062.jp2"}, "63": {"fulltext": "LOCHINVAR.\\nO, YOUNG Lochinvar is come out of the west,\\nThrough all the wide Border his steed was the best\\nAnd save his good broadsword, he weapon had\\nnone,\\nHe rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone.\\nSo faithful in love, and so dauntless in war,\\nThere never was knight like the young Lochinvar.\\nHe staid not for brake, and he stopped not for\\nstone.\\nHe swam the Eske river where ford there was\\nnone;\\nBut ere he alighted at Netherby gate.\\nThe bride had consented, the gallant came late\\nFor a laggard in love, and a dastard in war.\\nWas to wed the fair Ellen of young Lochinvar.\\nSo boldly he entered the Netherby Hall,\\nAmong bridesmen and kinsmen, and brothers, and\\nall:\\nThen spake the bride s father, his hand on his\\nsword,", "height": "4637", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0063.jp2"}, "64": {"fulltext": "54 LOCHIXVAR.\\n(For the poor craven bridegroom said never a\\nword,)\\nO come ye in peace here, or come ye in war,\\nOr to dance at our bridal, young Lord Locliinvar\\nI long wooed your daughter, my suit you denied\\nLo\\\\-e swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide\\nAnd now am I come, with this lost love of mine,\\nTo lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine.\\nThere are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far,\\nThat would crladlv be bride to the voung Lochinvar.\\nThe bride kissed the goblet the knight took it up.\\nHe quaffed off the wine, and he threw down the cup.\\nShe looked do ^Ti to blush, and she looked up to sigh.\\nWith a smile on her hps and a tear in her eve.\\nHe took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar,\\nNow tread we a measure said young Lochinvar.\\nSo stately his form, and so lovely her face,\\nTliat never a hall such a galliard did grace\\nWTiile her mother did fret, and her father did\\nfame,\\n.And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and\\nplume", "height": "4637", "width": "3149", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0064.jp2"}, "65": {"fulltext": "LOCHINVAR. 5s\\nAnd the bride-maidens whispered, T were better\\nby far,\\nTo have matched our fair cousin with young Loch-\\ninvar.\\nOne touch to her hand, and one word in her ear.\\nWhen they reached the hall-door, and the charger\\nstood near\\nSo light to the croupe the fair lady he swung,\\nSo light to the saddle before her he sprung.\\nShe is won we are gone over bank, bush and\\nscaur\\nThey 11 have fleet steeds that follow, quoth young\\nLochinvar.\\nThere was mounting mong Graemes of the Nether-\\nby clan\\nForsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and\\nthey ran\\nThere was racing and chasing on Cannobie Lee,\\nBut the lost bride of Netherby ne er did they see.\\nSo daring in love, and so dauntless in war,\\nHave ye e er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar?\\nSir Walter Scott.", "height": "4612", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0065.jp2"}, "66": {"fulltext": "GEORGE XIBIYER.\\nMesi Im^ doDC bmc deeds,\\nAaid l\u00c2\u00bbnls faaEPe sBDg diem mdi\\nl\u00e2\u0082\u00aci good Geoige ^Mi\u00c2\u00a3icr\\nyHww liie tak wM t^L\\nAGsde Indon hof\\nFcJfcpwed him ti^a^wh eiCs\\nEisger to ^haie the haniei^s jojr,\\nTbehoDDieesmEalto:\\nAnd vleii die Imd cv deer\\n7 zbst I mnic i^s ^^kfll,\\nT: 7 as always near\\n_ 7 idda iinte i!Dod-\u00c2\u00abil.", "height": "4666", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0066.jp2"}, "67": {"fulltext": "GEORGE NIDIVER, 57\\nOne day as through the cleft\\nBetween two mountains steep,\\nShut in both right and left,\\nTheir questing way they keep.\\nThey see two grizzly bears.\\nWith hunger fierce and fell.\\nRush at them unawares,\\nRight down the narrow dell.\\nThe boy turned round with screams,\\nAnd ran with terror wild\\nOne of the pair of savage beasts\\nPursued the shrieking child.\\nThe hunter raised his gun,\\nHe knew one charge was all,\\nAnd through the boy s pursuing foe\\nHe sent his only ball.\\nThe other on George Nidiver\\nCame on with dreadful pace\\nThe hunter stood unarmed.\\nAnd met him face to face.\\nI say unarmed he stood\\nAgainst those frightful paws\\nThe rifle-butt, or club of wood.\\nCould stand no more than straws.", "height": "4633", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0067.jp2"}, "68": {"fulltext": "58 GEORGE XIDIVER.\\nGeorge Nidhrer stood stiD,\\nAnd looked him in the fece\\nThe wild beast stopped amazed.\\nThen came with slackening pace.\\nStiU firm the hunter stood.\\nAlthough his heart beat high\\nAgain the creatore stopped.\\nAnd gazed with wondering eye.\\nThe hunter met his gaze,\\nXor yet an inch gave way\\nThe bear turned slowly round.\\nAnd slowly moved away.\\nWhat thoughts were in his mind\\nIt would be hard to speU\\nWhat thoughts were in George X liver\\nI radier guess than telL\\nBut sure that rifle s aim.\\nSwift choice of generous part\\nShowed in its passing g^eam\\nThe depths of a brare heart.\\nAkOXYMOUSw", "height": "4637", "width": "3132", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0068.jp2"}, "69": {"fulltext": "THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE^\\nOctober 25, 1854.\\nHalf a league, half a league,\\nHalf a league onward,\\nAll in the valley of Death\\nRode the six hundred.\\nForward the Light Brigade\\nCharge for the guns he said.\\nInto the valley of Death\\nRode the six hundred.\\nForward, the Light Brigade\\nWas there a man dismayed?\\nNot though the soldier knew\\nSome one had blundered\\nTheirs not to make reply.\\nTheirs not to reason why,\\nTheirs but to do and die,\\nInto the valley of Death\\nRode the six hundred.", "height": "4598", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0069.jp2"}, "70": {"fulltext": "6o THE LIGHT BRIGADE,\\nCannon to right of them,\\nCannon to left of them,\\nCannon in front of them\\nVolleyed and thundered\\nStormed at with shot and shell,\\nBoldly they rode and well,\\nInto the jaws of Death,\\nInto the mouth of Hell\\nRode the six hundred.\\nFlashed all their sabres bare.\\nFlashed as they turned in air,\\nSabring the gunners there,\\nCharging an army, while\\nAll the world wondered.\\nPlunged in the battery-smoke\\nRight through the line they broke\\nCossack and Russian\\nReeled from the sabre-stroke\\nShattered and sundered.\\nThen they rode back, but not.\\nNot the six hundred.\\nCannon to right of them.\\nCannon to left of them.\\nCannon behind them\\nVolleyed and thundered", "height": "4637", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0070.jp2"}, "71": {"fulltext": "THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE.\\nAll in the Valley of Death rode the six hundred.\\nForward, the Light Brigade! Charge for the guns! he said.\\nI", "height": "4637", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0071.jp2"}, "72": {"fulltext": "62 THE LIGHT BRIGADE,\\nStormed at with shot and shell,\\nWhile horse and hero fell,\\nThey that had fought so well\\nCame through the jaws of Death\\nBack from the mouth of Hell,\\nAll that was left of them,\\nLeft of six hundred.\\nWhen can their glor} fade\\nO the wild charge they made\\nAll the world wondered.\\nHonor the charge they made\\nHonor the Light Brigade,\\nNoble six hundred\\nAlfred Tennyson.", "height": "4637", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0072.jp2"}, "73": {"fulltext": "PIBROCH OF DONUIL DHU.\\nPibroch of Donuil Dhu,\\nPibroch of Donuil,\\nWake thy wild voice anew,\\nSummon Clan-Conuil.\\nCome away, come away,\\nHark to the summons\\nCome in your war array,\\nGentles and commons.\\nCome from deep glen, and\\nFrom mountain so rocky.\\nThe w^ar-pipe and pennon\\nAre at Inverlocky.\\nCome every hill-plaid, and\\nTrue heart that wears one,\\nCome every steel blade, and\\nStrong hand that bears one.\\nLeave untended the herd,\\nThe flock without shelter\\nLeave the corpse uninterred,\\nThe bride at the altar", "height": "4614", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0073.jp2"}, "74": {"fulltext": "64 PIBROCH OF DONUIL DHU.\\nLeave the deer, leave the steer,\\nLeave nets and barges\\nCome with your fighting gear,\\nBroadswords and targes.\\nCome as the winds come, when\\nForests are rended\\nCome as the waves come, when\\nNavies are stranded\\nFaster come, faster come,\\nFaster and faster.\\nChief, vassal, page, and groom,\\nTenant and master.\\nFast they come, fast they come\\nSee how they gather\\nWide waves the eagle plume,\\nBlended with heather.\\nCast your plaids, draw your blades,\\nForward each man set\\nPibroch of Donuil Dhu,\\nKnell for the onset\\nSir Walter Scott.", "height": "4674", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0074.jp2"}, "75": {"fulltext": "THE CAVALIER S ESCAPE.\\nTrample trample went the roan,\\nTrap trap went the gray\\nBut pad pad I pad 1 Hke a thing that was mad,\\nMy chestnut broke away.\\nIt was just five miles from Salisbury town,\\nAnd but one hour to day.\\nThud THUD came on the heavy roan.\\nRap RAP the mettled gray\\nBut my chestnut mare was of blood so rare,\\nThat she showed them all the way.\\nSpur on spur on I doffed my hat,\\nAnd wished them all good-day.\\nThey splashed through miry rut and pool,\\nSpHntered through fence and rail\\nBut chestnut Kate switched over the gate,\\nI saw them droop and tail.\\nTo Salisbury town but a mile of down.\\nOnce over this brook and rail.\\n5", "height": "4627", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0075.jp2"}, "76": {"fulltext": "66 THE CAVALIER S ESCAPE.\\nTrap trap I heard their echoing hoofs\\nPast the walls of mossy stone\\nThe roan flew on at a staggering pace,\\nBut blood is better than bone.\\nI patted old Kate, and gave her the spur,\\nFor I knew it was all my own.\\nBut trample trample came their steeds,\\nAnd I saw their wolf s eyes burn;\\nI felt like a royal hart at bay,\\nAnd made me ready to turn.\\nI looked where highest grew the May,\\nAnd deepest arched the fern.\\nI flew at the first knave s sallow throat\\nOne blow, and he was down.\\nThe second rogue fired twice, and missed\\nI sliced the villain s crown,\\nClove through the rest, and flogged brave Kate,\\nFast^ fast to Salisbury town I\\nPad pad they came on the level sward.\\nThud thud upon the sand,\\nWith a gleam of swords and a burning match,\\nAnd a shaking of flag and hand\\nBut one long bound, and I passed the gate,\\nSafe from the canting band.\\nWalter Thornbury.\\nd", "height": "4637", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0076.jp2"}, "77": {"fulltext": "PAUL REVERE S RIDE.\\nArRiL i8 AND 19, 1775.\\nListen, my children, and you shall hear\\nOf the midnight ride of Paul Revere,\\nOn the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five\\nHardly a man is now alive\\nWho remembers that famous day and year.\\nHe said to his friend, If the British march\\nBy land or sea from the town to-night.\\nHang a lantern aloft in the belfry-arch\\nOf the North Church tower as a signal-light,\\nOne, if by land, and two, if by sea\\nAnd I on the opposite shore will be.\\nReady to ride and spread the alarm\\nThrough every Middlesex village and farm,\\nFor the country folk to be up and to arm.", "height": "4622", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0077.jp2"}, "78": {"fulltext": "68 PAUL REVERE S RIDE,\\nThen he said, Good-night and with muffled oar\\nSilently rowed to the Charlestown shore,\\nJust as the moon rose over the bay,\\nWhere swinging wide at her moorings lay\\nThe Somerset, British man-of-war\\nA phantom ship, with each mast and spar\\nAcross the moon like a prison bar,\\nAnd a huge black hulk, that was magnified\\nBy its own reflection in the tide.\\nMeanwhile, his friend, through alley and street,\\nWanders and watches with eager ears.\\nTill in the silence around him he hears\\nThe muster of men at the barrack door.\\nThe sound of arms, and the tramp of feet.\\nAnd the measured tread of the grenadiers,\\n]\\\\Iarching down to their boats on the shore.\\nThen he climbed the tower of the old North Churchy\\nBy the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread,\\nTo the belfry-chamber overhead,\\nAnd startled the pigeons from their perch\\nOn the sombre rafters, that round him made\\nIMasses and moving shapes of shade,\\nBy the trembhng ladder, steep and tall,\\nTo tlie highest ^^indow in the wall,\\nWhere he paused to listen and look down\\nA moment on the roofs of the town.\\nAnd the moonlight flowing over all.", "height": "4637", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0078.jp2"}, "79": {"fulltext": "PAUL REVERE S RIDE, 69\\nBeneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead,\\nIn their night-encampment on the hill.\\nWrapped in silence so deep and still\\nThat he could hear, like a sentinel s tread,\\nThe watchful night-wind, as it went\\nCreeping along from tent to tent,\\nAnd seeming to whisper, All is well\\nxA moment only he feels the spell\\nOf the place and the hour, and the secret dread\\nOf the lonely belfry and the dead\\nFor suddenly all his thoughts are bent\\nOn a shadowy something far away.\\nWhere the river widens to meet the bay,\\nA line of black that bends and floats\\nOn the rising tide, like a bridge of boats.\\nMeanwhile, impatient to mount and ride.\\nBooted and spurred, with a heavy stride.\\nOn the opposite shore walked Paul Revere.\\nNow he patted his horse s side.\\nNow gazed at the landscape far and near,\\nThen, impetuous, stamped the earth\\nAnd turned and tightened his saddle-girth\\nBut mostly he watched with eager search\\nThe belfry-tower of the old North Church,\\nAs it rose above the graves on the hill,\\nLonely and spectral and sombre and still.\\nAnd lo as he looks, on the belfry s height", "height": "4629", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0079.jp2"}, "80": {"fulltext": "70 PAUL REVERE S RIDE,\\nA glimmer, and then a gleam of light\\nHe springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns,\\nBut lingers and gazes, till full on his sight\\nA second lamp in the belfry burns\\nA hurry of hoofs in a village street,\\nA shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark,\\nAnd beneath, from the pebbles in passing, a spark\\nStruck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet\\nThat was all And yet through the gloom and the\\nlight.\\nThe fate of a nation was riding that night\\nAnd the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight,\\nKindled the land into flame with its heat.\\nHe has left the village and mounted the steep,\\nAnd beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep.\\nIs the ]\\\\lystic, meeting the ocean tides\\nAnd under the alders, that skirt its edge,\\nNow soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge,\\nIs heard the tramp of his steed as he rides.\\nIt was twelve by the village clock\\nWhen he crossed the bridge into ]\\\\Iedford town.\\nHe heard the crowing of the cock.\\nAnd the barking of the farmer s dog,\\nAnd felt the damp of the river fog,\\nThat rises after the sun 2:oes down.", "height": "4637", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0080.jp2"}, "81": {"fulltext": "PA UL RE VERES RIDE. 7 r\\nIt was one by the village clock,\\nWhen he galloped into Lexington.\\nHe saw the gilded weathercock\\nSwim in the moonlight as he passed,\\nAnd the meeting-house windows, blank and bare,\\nGaze at him with a spectral glare,\\nAs if they already stood aghast\\nAt the bloody work they would look upon.\\nIt was two by the village clock\\nWhen he came to the bridge in Concord town.\\nHe heard the bleating of the flock,\\nAnd the twitter of birds among the trees,\\nAnd felt the breath of the morning breeze\\nBlowing over the meadows brown.\\nAnd one was safe and asleep in his bed\\nWho at the bridge would be first to fall,\\nWho that day would be lying dead,\\nPierced by a British musket-ball.\\nYou know the rest. In the books you have read,\\nHow the British Regulars fired and fled,\\nHow the farmers gave them ball for ball.\\nFrom behind each fence and farm-yard wall,\\nChasing the red-coats down the lane,\\nThen crossing the fields to emerge again\\nUnder the trees at the turn of the road.\\nAnd only pausing to fire and load.", "height": "4618", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0081.jp2"}, "82": {"fulltext": "72 PACL REVERE S RIDE,\\nSo tlirough the night rode Paul Revere\\nAnd so through the night went his cry of alarm\\nTo ever) ^^liddlesex village and farm,\\nA cry of defiance and not of fear^\\nA voice in the darkness, a knock at the door,\\nAnd a word that shall echo forevermore I\\nFor, borne on the night- wind of the past.\\nThrough all our histor}% to the last,\\nIn the hour of darkness and peril and need.\\nThe people will waken and listen to hear\\nThe hurrpng hoof-beats of that steed.\\nAnd the midnight message of Paul Revere.\\nHenry \\\\V. Longfellow.\\n1", "height": "4668", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0082.jp2"}, "83": {"fulltext": "BARBARA FRIETCHIE.\\nSeptember 6, 1862.\\nUp from the meadows rich with corn,\\nClear in the cool September morn,\\nThe clustered spires of Frederick stand\\nGreen-walled by the hills of Maryland.\\nRound about them orchards sweep,\\nApple and peach tree fruited deep.\\nFair as a garden of the Lord\\nTo the eyes of the famished rebel horde,\\nOn that pleasant morn of the early fall\\nWhen Lee marched over the mountain-wall,\\nOver the mountains winding down,\\nHorse and foot, into Frederick town.\\nForty flags with their silver stars,\\nForty flags with their crimson bars.", "height": "4612", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0083.jp2"}, "84": {"fulltext": "74 BARBARA FRIETCHIE,\\nFlapped in the morning wind the sun\\nOf noon looked down, and saw not one.\\nUp rose old Barbara Frietchie then,\\nEowed with her fourscore years and ten\\nBravest of all in Frederick town,\\nShe took up the flag the men hauled down\\nIn her attic window the staff she set,\\nTo show that one heart was loyal yet.\\nUp the street came the rebel tread,\\nStonewall Jackson riding ahead.\\nUnder his slouched hat left and right\\nHe glanced the old flag met his sight.\\nHalt the dust-brown ranks stood fast\\nFire out blazed the rifle-blast.\\nIt shivered the window, pane and sash\\nIt rent the banner with seam and gash.\\nQuick, as it fell, from the broken staff\\nDame Barbara seized the silken scarf;\\nShe leaned far out on the window-sill\\nAnd shook it forth with a royal will.", "height": "4637", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0084.jp2"}, "85": {"fulltext": "BARBARA FRIETCHIE.\\nShe leaned far out on the window-sill,\\nAnd shook it forth with a royal will.", "height": "4672", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0085.jp2"}, "86": {"fulltext": "7 5 BARBARA FRIETCHIE.\\nShoot, if you must, this old, gray head,\\nBut spare your country s flag, she said.\\nA shade of sadness, a blush of shame,\\nOver the face of the leader came\\nThe nobler nature within him stirred\\nTo life at that woman s deed and word\\nWho touches a hair of yon gray head\\nDies like a dog March on he saido\\nAll day long through Frederick street\\nSounded the tread of marching feet\\nAll day long that free flag tost\\nOver the heads of the rebel host.\\nEver its torn folds rose and fell\\nOn the royal winds that loved it well\\nAnd through the hill-gaps sunset light\\nShone over it with a warm good-night.\\nBarbara Frietchie s work is o er.\\nAnd the Rebel rides on his raids no morCc\\nHonor to her and let a tear\\nFall, for her sake, on Stonewall s bier.", "height": "4637", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0086.jp2"}, "87": {"fulltext": "BARBARA FRIETCHIE. 77\\nOver Barbara Frietchie s grave,\\nFlag of Freedom and Union, wave\\nPeace, and order, and beauty draw\\nRound thy symbol of light and law\\nAnd ever the stars above look down\\nOn thy stars below in Frederick town\\nJohn Greenleaf Whittier.", "height": "4637", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0087.jp2"}, "88": {"fulltext": "SHERIDAN S RIDE.\\nOctober 19, 1S64.\\nUp from the South at break of day,\\nBringing to Winchester fresh dismay,\\nThe affrighted air with a shudder bore,\\nLike a herald in haste, to the chieftain s door,\\nThe terrible grumble, and rumble, and roar,\\nTelling the battle was on once more,\\nAnd Sheridan twenty miles away.\\nAnd wider still those billows of war\\nThundered along the horizon s bar\\nx\\\\nd louder yet into Winchester rolled\\nThe roar of that red sea uncontrolled,\\nMaking the blood of the Hstener cold.\\nAs he thought of the stake in that fiery fray.\\nAnd Sheridan twenty miles away.\\nBut there is a road from Winchester town,\\nA good broad highway leading down\\nx\\\\nd there, through the flush of the morning light.", "height": "4637", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0088.jp2"}, "89": {"fulltext": "S S2\\nE K", "height": "4637", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0089.jp2"}, "90": {"fulltext": "So\\nSHERIDAN S RIDE,\\nA steed as black as the steeds of night,\\nWas seen to pass, as with eagle flight,\\nAs if he knew the terrible need\\nHe stretched away with his utmost speed\\nHills rose and fell but his heart was gay.\\nWith Sheridan fifteen miles away.\\nStill sprung from those swift hoofs, thundering South,\\nThe dust, hke smoke from the cannon s mouth\\nOr a trail of a comet, sweeping faster and faster.\\nForeboding to traitors the doom of disaster.\\nThe heart of the steed and the heart of the master\\nWere beating like prisoners assaulting their walls,\\nImpatient to be where the battle-field calls\\nEvery nerve of the charger was strained to full play,\\nWith Sheridan only ten miles away.\\nUnder his spurning feet the road\\nLike an arrowy Alpine river flowed.\\nAnd the landscape sped away behind\\nLike an ocean flying before the wind\\nAnd the steed, like a bark fed vdth furnace ire.\\nSwept on with his wild eye full of fire.\\nBut lo he is nearing his heart s desire\\nHe is snuffing the smoke of the roaring fray,\\nWith Sheridan only five miles away.", "height": "4637", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0090.jp2"}, "91": {"fulltext": "SHERIDAN S RIDE, 8i\\nThe first that the General saw were the groups\\nOf stragglers, and then the retreating troops.\\nWhat was done what to do A glance told him\\nboth.\\nThen, striking his spurs, with a terrible oath,\\nHe dashed down the line, mid a storm of huzzas.\\nAnd the wave of retreat checked its course there,\\nbecause\\nThe sight of the master compelled it to pause.\\nWith foam and with dust the black charger was gray\\nBy the flash of his eye, and the red nostril s play,\\nHe seemed to the whole great army to say,\\nI have brought you Sheridan all the way\\nFrom Winchester down to save the day\\nHurrah hurrah for Sheridan\\nHurrah hurrah for horse and man\\nAnd when their statues are placed on high,\\nUnder the dome of the Union sky^\\nThe American soldier s Temple of Fame,\\nThere with the glorious General s name.\\nBe it said, in letters both bold and bright,\\nHere .is the steed that saved the day\\nBy carrying Sheridan into the fight,\\nFrom Winchester, twenty miles away\\nThomas Buchanan Read.", "height": "4628", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0091.jp2"}, "92": {"fulltext": "THE RELIEF OF LUCKNOW.\\nSeptember 25, 1857.\\nOh, that last day in Lucknow fort\\nWe knew that it was the last\\nThat the enemy s mines had crept surely in,\\nAnd the end was coming fast.\\nTo yield to that foe meant worse than death\\nAnd the men and we all worked on\\nIt was one day more, of smoke and roar,\\nAnd then it would all be done.\\nThere was one of us, a corporal s wife,\\nA fair, young, gentle thing.\\nWasted with fever in the siege.\\nAnd her mind was wandering.\\nShe lay on the ground, in her Scottish plaid.\\nAnd I took her head on my knee\\nWhen my father comes hame frae the pleugh,\\nshe said,\\nOh then please wauken me", "height": "4605", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0092.jp2"}, "93": {"fulltext": "THE RELIEF OF LUCK NOW 83\\nShe slept like a child on her father s floor,\\nIn the flecking of woodbine shade,\\nWhen the house-dog sprawls by the open door,\\nAnd the mother s wheel is stayed.\\nIt was smoke and roar and powder-stench.\\nAnd hopeless waiting for death\\nAnd the soldier s wife, like a full-tired child,\\nSeemed scarce to draw her breath.\\nsank to sleep and I had my dream\\nOf an English village-lane.\\nAnd wall and garden a sudden scream\\nBrought me back to the roar again.\\nThere Jessie Brown stood listening\\nAnd then a broad gladness broke\\nAll over her face, and she caught my hand\\nAnd drew me near and spoke\\nThe Highlanders I oh, dinna ye hear?\\nThe slogan far awa\\nThe McGregor s Ah I ken it weel\\nIt s the grandest o them a\\nGod bless thae bonny Highlanders\\nWe re saved we re saved she cried\\nAnd fell on her knees, and thanks to God\\nPoured forth like a full flood-tide.", "height": "4637", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0093.jp2"}, "94": {"fulltext": "84 THE RELIEF OF LUC KNOW.\\nAlong the battery-line her cry\\nHad fallen among the men\\nAnd they started, for they were there to die\\nWas hfe so near them, then\\nThey listened for life and the rattling fire\\nFar off, and the far-off roar.\\nWere all and the colonel shook his head,\\nAnd they turned to their guns once more.\\nBut Jessie said That slogan s dune\\nBut can ye no hear them, noo.\\nThe Campbells are coniin It s no a dream j\\nOur succors hae broken through\\nWe heard the roar and the rattle afar,\\nBut the pipes we could not hear\\nSo the men phed their work of hopeless war.\\nAnd knew that the end was near.\\nIt was not long ere it must be heard,\\nA shrilling, ceaseless sound\\nIt was no noise of the strife afar,\\nOr the sappers underground.\\nIt was the pipes of the Highlanders\\nAnd now they played Auld Lang Syne,\\nIt came to our men like the voice of God,\\nAnd they shouted along the line.", "height": "4637", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0094.jp2"}, "95": {"fulltext": "THE RELIEF OF LUCK NOW. 85\\nAnd they wept and shook one another s hand,\\nAnd the women sobbed in a crowd\\nAnd every one knelt down where we stood,\\nAnd we all thanked God aloud.\\nThat happy time when we welcomed them,\\nOur men put Jessie first\\nAnd the general gave her his hand, and cheers\\nFrom the men like a volley burst.\\nAnd the pipers ribbons and tartan streamed,\\nMarching round and round our line\\nAnd our joyful cheers were broken with tears,\\nFor the pipers played Auld Lang Syne,\\nRobert T. S. Lowell.\\nAre there not many who remember (who can forget that\\nscene in the Sikh War, when the distant gleam of arms\\nand flash of friendly uniform was descried by a little ex-\\nhausted army among the hills, and the Scotch pipes struck\\nup, Oh but ye were lang a-comin The incident in the\\npresent case may not be historical, but it is true to nature,\\nand intrinsically probable, which is all that poetry needs\\nin that respect.", "height": "4637", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0095.jp2"}, "96": {"fulltext": "^HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD\\nNEWS FROM GHENT TO AIX.\\n[16-]\\nI SPRANG to the stirrup, and Joris, and he\\nI galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three\\nGood speed cried the watch, as the gate-bolts\\nundrew\\nSpeed echoed the wall to us galloping through\\nBehind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest,\\nAnd into the midnight we galloped abreast.\\nNot a word to each other we kept the great pace,\\nNeck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our\\nplace\\nI turned in my saddle and made its girths tight.\\nThen shortened each stirrup, and set the pique\\nright,\\nRebuckled the cheek-strap, chained slacker the bit,\\nNor galloped less steadily Roland a whit.", "height": "4597", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0096.jp2"}, "97": {"fulltext": "HOW THEY BROUGHT THE NEWS. 87\\nT was moonset at starting but while we drew near\\nLokeren, the cocks crew and twihght dawned\\nclear\\nAt Boom, a great yellow star came out to see\\nAt Diiffeld, t was morning as plain as could be\\nAnd from Mecheln church-steeple we heard the\\nhalf-chime,\\nSo Joris broke silence with, Yet there is time\\nAt Aerschot, up leaped of a sudden the sun,\\nAnd against him the cattle stood black every one,\\nTo stare through the mist at us galloping past,\\nAnd I saw my stout galloper Roland at last.\\nWith resolute shoulders, each butting away\\nThe haze, as some bluff river headland its spray.\\nAnd his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent\\nback\\nFor my voice, and the other pricked out on his\\ntrack\\nAnd one eye s black intelligence, ever that\\nglance\\nO er its white edge at me, his own master, askance\\nAnd the thick heavy spume-flakes whicli aye and\\nanon\\nHis fierce lips shook upwards in galloping on.", "height": "4637", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0097.jp2"}, "98": {"fulltext": "88 HOW THEY BROUGHT THE NEWS,\\nBy Hasselt, Dirck groaned and cried Joris, Stay\\nspur\\nYour Roos galloped bravely, the fault s not in her,\\nWe 11 remember at Aix for one heard the\\nquick wheeze\\nOf her chest, saw the stretched neck and staggering\\nknees.\\nAnd sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank,\\nAs down on her haunches she shuddered and sank.\\nSo we were left galloping, Joris and I,\\nPast Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky j\\nThe broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh,\\nNeath our feet broke the brittle bright stubble like\\nchaff;\\nTill over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang white,\\nAnd Gallop, gasped Joris, for Aix is in sight\\nHow they 11 greet us and all in a moment his\\nroan\\nRolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone\\nAnd there was my Roland to bear the whole weight\\nOf the news which alone could save Aix from her\\nfate,\\nWith his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim,\\nAnd with circles of red for his eye-sockets rim.", "height": "4637", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0098.jp2"}, "99": {"fulltext": "HOW THEY BROUGHT THE NEWS. 89\\nThen I cast loose my buff-coat, each holster let fall,\\nShook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all,\\nStood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear.\\nCalled my Roland his pet-name, my horse without\\npeer;\\nClapped my hands, laughed and sang, any noise,\\nbad or good.\\nTill at length into Aix, Roland galloped and stood.\\nAnd all I remember is friends flocking round,\\nAs I sat with his head twixt my knees on the\\nground,\\nAnd no voice but was praising this Roland of mine.\\nAs I poured down his throat our last measure of\\nwine,\\nWhich (the burgesses voted by common consent)\\nWas no more than his due who brought good news\\nfrom Ghent.\\nRobert Browning.\\nI", "height": "4637", "width": "3125", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0099.jp2"}, "100": {"fulltext": "I", "height": "4607", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0100.jp2"}, "101": {"fulltext": "Cbe Cbildren s friend Series\\nHandy Illustrated Volumes by popular authors, including: Louisa M. Alcott,\\nSusan Coolidge, Nora Perry, Helen Hunt Jackson, Louise Chandler\\nMouLTON, Juliana H. Ewing, Laura E. Richards, A. G. Plympton, etc.\\nChoicely printed and attractively bound in cloth, with gold and ink stamp on\\nside. Issued at the popular price of 50 cents per volume.\\nNEW ISSUES.\\nMAY BARTLETT S STEP-\\nMOTHER. By NORA PERRY,\\nauthor of Another Flock of Girls,\\nHope Benham/* etc.\\nTWO DOGS AND A DONKEY.\\nBy A. G. PLYMPTON, author of Dear\\nDaughter Dorothy, etc.\\nMARY S MEADOW.\\nBy JULIANA H. EWING, author of\\nJackanapes, etc.\\nBOOK OF HEROIC BALLADS.\\nSelected by MARY W. TILESTON,\\nauthor of Daily Strength for Daily\\nNeeds.**\\nGOLDEN OPPORTUNITY.\\nBy JEAN INGELOW, author of Sto-\\nries Told to a Child, etc.\\nLAND OF LOST TOYS,\\nBy JULIANA H. EWING.\\nGREAT EMERGENCY.\\nBy JULIANA H. EWING.\\nTWO GIRLS.\\nBy SUSAN COOLIDGE, author ot\\nThe Katy Did Series, etc.\\nLITTLE TOMMY TUCKER.\\nBy SUSAN COOLIDGE.\\nPOPPIES AND WHEAT.\\nBy LOUISA M. ALCOTT, author of\\nLittle Women, Little Men, etc.\\nCANDY COUNTRY.\\nBy LOUISA M. ALCOTT.\\nJESSIE S NEIGHBOR.\\nBy LOUISE CHANDLER MOUL-\\nTON, author of Bed-Time Stories, etc.\\nPREVIOUSLY ISSUED.\\n.GAINST WIND AND TIDE.\\nBy LOUISE CHANDLER MOUL-\\nTON.\\ni HOLE IN THE WALL.\\nBy LOUISA M. ALCOTT.\\nA LITTLE KNIGHT OF LABOR.\\nBy SUSAN COOLIDGE.\\nCHILDREN S HOUR.\\nBy MARY W. TILESTON.", "height": "4671", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0101.jp2"}, "102": {"fulltext": "The Cbildrcn^s friend Series\\nCHOP CHIN AND THE GOLD-\\nEN DRAGON. By LAURA E.\\nRICHARDS, author of Captain\\nJanuar} The Joyous Storj- of Toto,\\netc.\\nCOTTAGE NEIGHBORS.\\nBy XORA PERRY.\\nCURLY LOCKS.\\nBy SUSAX COOLIDGE.\\nDADDY DARWIN S DOVE-\\nCOT. By JULIANA H. EWIXG.\\nFOUR OF THEM.\\nbv louise chaxdler .moul-\\nt ox.\\ngolden-breasted koo-\\ntoo. by laura e. richards.\\nGOOSTIE.\\nBy ^L-VRY CAROLINE HYDE.\\nHUNTER CATS OF CONNOR-\\nLOA. By HELEX HUXT JACK-\\nSOX, author of ^Ramona, ~Xelly s\\nSilver Mine, etc.\\nJACKANAPES.\\nBy JULIAXA H. EWING.\\nLITTLE OLIVE THE HEIR-\\nESS. Bv A. G. PLYMPTON.\\nMAN WITHOUT A COUNTRY.\\nBy EDWARD EVERETT HALE,\\nauthor of Ten Times One is Ten, etc.\\nMARJORIES THREE GIFTS.\\nBy LOUISA M. ALCOTT.\\nMAY FLOWERS.\\nBy LOUISA M. ALCOTT.\\nMISS TOOSEY S MISSION.\\nBy the author of Belle, Laddie, etc.\\nNONSENSE SONGS.\\nBy EDWARD LEAR.\\nRAGS AND VELVET GOWNS.\\nBy A. G. PLY-MPTOX.\\nSTORY OF A SHORT LIFE.\\nBy JULIAXA H. EWING.\\nSUNDOWN SONGS.\\nBy LAURA E. RICHARDS.\\nTHAT LITTLE SMITH GIRL.\\nBy XORA PERRY.\\nUNDER THE STABLE FLOOR.\\nA Christmas Storw Bv MARY CARO-\\nLIXE HYDE.\\nCHRISTMAS AT\\nSEA. Bv MARY\\nHYDE.\\nTAPPAN\\nCAROLIXE\\nLittle^ Brown^ and Company^ publishers,\\n254 WASHINGTON STREET, BOSTON, MASS.\\nTHE CHILDREN S FRIEND SERIES, put up in sets:\\nThe Louisa M. Alcott Library for Little People.\\n5 vols. $2.50.\\n^*fc^ri:i??^^ The Susan Coolidge Library for Little People. 4 vols.\\nThe Juliana H. Ewing Library for Little People.\\n6 vols. S3. 00.\\nThe Louise Chandler Moulton Library for Little\\nPeople. 3 vols. $1.50.\\nThe Nora Perry Library for Little People. 3 vols.\\nSI.50-\\nThe Laura E. Richards Library for Little People.\\n3 vols. Si. 50.\\nThe a. G. Plympton Library for Little People. 3 vols. $^-5^-\\nMary Caroline Hyde s Christmas Library. 3 vols. Si. 50-", "height": "4667", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0102.jp2"}, "103": {"fulltext": "", "height": "4632", "width": "3115", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0103.jp2"}, "104": {"fulltext": "", "height": "4637", "width": "3003", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0104.jp2"}, "105": {"fulltext": "", "height": "4617", "width": "2994", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0105.jp2"}, "106": {"fulltext": "SFP 2S 1900", "height": "4637", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0106.jp2"}, "107": {"fulltext": "", "height": "4637", "width": "3057", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0107.jp2"}, "108": {"fulltext": "", "height": "4809", "width": "3183", "jp2-path": "bookofheroicball00tile_0108.jp2"}}