Memorials of the Late War ...: Journal of a soldier of the Seventy-first regiment (Highland light infantry) from 1806 to 1815. The Spanish campaign of 1808, by Adam Neale. Despatch after the battle of Corunna, by Sir John Hope. Reminiscences of a campaign in the Pyrenees and south of France, by John Malcolm
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appeared arms army arrived artillery attack battle began body brigade British brought called camp carry cavalry charge close Colonel column command commenced companies continued Corunna covered dark dead death distance division embarkation enemy fall fatigue feelings fell felt fire forced formed four French front gave ground guard guns hand head heard heights hill hope hour immediately joined land leave length letter light looked Lord marched miles mind Moore morning mountains moved never night occupied officers opposite orders passed position quarters rain reached rear received regiment remained rest retired retreat returned river road scene seemed seen sent short side Sir John soldiers soon sound Spain Spanish spirit stood suffered taken thing thought tion took town troops turn village whole wounded
Стр. 206 - We thought as we hollowed his narrow bed And smoothed down his lonely pillow, That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, And we far away on the billow ! Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him, — But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him.
Стр. 206 - Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him, — But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him. But half of our heavy task was done When the clock struck the hour for retiring : And we heard the distant and random gun That the foe was sullenly firing. Slowly and sadly we laid him down, From the field of his fame fresh and gory; We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone, But we left him alone with his glory.
Стр. 205 - Few and short were the prayers we said, And -we spoke not a word of sorrow; But we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead, And we bitterly thought of the morrow.
Стр. 205 - By the struggling moonbeam's misty light And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him ; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest With his martial cloak around him.
Стр. 204 - Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried. We buried him darkly at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning ; By the struggling moonbeam's misty light And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast...
Стр. 162 - I certainly at first did feel, and expressed much indignation at a person like him, being made the channel of a communication of that sort from you to me. Those feelings are at an end ; and I dare say they never will be excited towards you again.
Стр. 198 - They were still separated from each other by stone walls and hedges, which intersected the ground : but as they closed it was perceived that the French line extended beyond the right flank of the British ; and a body of the Enemy were observed moving up the valley to turn it.
Стр. 171 - Spaniards had neither the power, nor the inclination, to make any efforts for themselves.
Стр. 219 - The troops, though not unacquainted with the irreparable loss they had sustained, were not dismayed, but by the most determined bravery not only repelled every attempt of the enemy to gain ground, but actually forced him to retire, although he had brought up fresh troops in support of those originally engaged.