The combat deepens. On, ye brave, Few, few shall part where many meet! 1. Linden. -Thomas Campbell. NOTES Linden is an abbreviated form of Hohenlinden, the name of the forest where the battle was fought. It is situated between the river Iser and the river Inn. 2. Fires of death. The vivid flashes of the artillery. 3. War clouds, rolling dun. The clouds of battle smoke. 4. Sulphurous canopy. Another reference to the smoke of battle. 5. Frank. The French. 6. Hun. The Austrians. 7. Munich. City of Germany nineteen miles east of Hohenlinden. 8. Chivalry. Cavalry. 9. Winding-sheet. The snow covering the dead bodies is spoken of as if wrapped around them preparing them for burial. 10. Look up the following words and expressions: untrodden, fires of death, scenery, battle blade, neighed, dreadful revelry, riven, bolts of heaven, level sun, sulphurous, chivalry, sepulcher, winding sheet. EXERCISES 1. To what battle does this poem refer? 2. In any good school history, look up the battle of Hohenlinden and tell what you can concerning the battle. 3. What tells us of the condition of the battle-field before the battle took place? 4. What time was this battle fought? 5. Under what conditions did the soldiers prepare for the fierce battle? 6. Explain "dreadful revelry." 7. What tells us of the fierceness of the battle? 8. How long did the battle last? 9. Between what parties was it fought? 10. From this poem, upon which side do you think the author's sympathies were? 11. With what feeling do we leave the reading of the poem? 12. Why do you think this poem is regarded as a great war poem? ADDITIONAL READINGS COLLIN: How Sleep the Brave. BOKER: Dirge for a Soldier. SCOTT: Soldier, Rest. WILSON: Such is the Death the Soldier Dies. RILEY: The Silent Victors. BYRON: The Night Before Waterloo. Destruction of Sennacherib. PROCTER: The Overthrow of Belshazzar. KIPLING: Hymn Before Action. A GOOD NAME Good name in man and woman, dear my lord, Is the immediate jewel of their souls: Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing; 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands; But he that filches from me my good name Robs me of that which not enriches him, And makes me poor indeed. -William Shakespeare. IN A CALL TO ARMS N the stirring days just preceding the Revolutionary War, the second Revolutionary Convention of Virginia assembled at Richmond, March 20, 1775. It was evident that unless Great Britain took immediate steps toward conciliation, American colonial war was inevitable. Many of the colonies had already taken steps to raise troops, some of the settlements in Virginia had done this also. As yet Virginia had taken no general action. None but the boldest were ready to admit that war could not be averted. Three days after the first meeting of the convention, Patrick Henry introduced three resolutions calling for the establishment of a colonial militia, and for an appointment of a committee to put the colonies in a state of defense. The famous speech of March 23, 1775, made in defense of these resolutions, is a definite declaration that the time for conference had passed, and that war was actually begun. A very interesting account of the speech, related by an eye-witness, has come down to us: When Patrick Henry said, "Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery?" he stood in the attitude of a condemned galley-slave loaded with fetters, awaiting his doom. His form was bowed, his wrists were crossed, his manacles were almost visible, as he stood the embodiment of helpless ness and agony. After a solemn pause he raised his eyes and chained hands toward Heaven, and prayed, in words and tones which thrilled every heart, "Forbid it, Almighty God." He then turned toward the timid loyalists of the House, who were quaking with terror; he slowly bent his form yet nearer to the earth and said, “I know not what course others may take," and accompanied the words with his hands still crossed, while he seemed to be weighed down with additional chains. The man appeared transformed into a suppressed, heart-broken, and hopeless felon. After remaining in this posture of humiliation long enough to impress the imagination with the condition of the colonies under the iron heel of military despotism, he arose proudly to exclaim, "but as for me," and the words hissed through his clenched teeth, while his body was thrown back, and every muscle and tendon was strained against the fetters which bound him. With his countenance distorted by agony and rage, he looked for a moment like Laocoön in the death struggle with coiling serpents, then the loud, clear, triumphant notes, "give me liberty," electrified the assembly. It was not a prayer, but a stern demand which would submit to no refusal or delay. Each syllable of the word "liberty" echoed through the building; his fetters were shivered; his arms were hurled apart; and the links of his chain were scattered to the winds. When he spoke the word "liberty," with an emphasis never given it before, his hands were open, and his arms elevated and extended; his countenance was radiant; he stood |