Welcome to PhiloLogic |
home | the ARTFL project | download | documentation | sample databases | |
Halpine, Charles G. (Charles Graham), 1829-1868 [1866], Baked meats of the funeral: a collection of essays, poems, speeches, histories, and banquets. Collected, revised, and edited, with the requisite corrections of punctuation, spelling, and grammar, by an ex-colonel... (Carleton, New York) [word count] [eaf563T]. To look up a word in a dictionary, select the word with your mouse and press 'd' on your keyboard.
MORE ABOUT PIRATICAL PRIVATEERING. Whenever the history of Literary Larceny
But with characteristic audacity, the piratical THE WASTE OF WAR. [Translated from the German of Friedrich Gerstaecker, by Miles Au-Relius, and audaciously palmed off by him as an Original Poem.] Three years ago, to-day, We raised our hands to Heaven, And, on the rolls of muster, Our names were thirty-seven; There were just a thousand bayonets, And the swords were thirty-seven, As we took the oath of service With our right hands raised to Heaven.
O, 'twas a gallant day, In memory still adored, That day of our sun-bright nuptials With the musket and the sword! Shrill rang the fifes, the bugles blared, And beneath a cloudless heaven Far flashed a thousand bayonets, And the swords were thirty-seven Of the thousand stalwart bayonets Two hundred march to-day; Hundreds lie in Virginia swamps, And hundreds in Maryland clay; While other hundreds—less happy—drag Their mangled limbs around, And envy the deep, calm, blessed sleep Of the battle-field's holy ground. For the swords—one night a week ago The remnant, just eleven,— Gathered around a banqueting-board With seats for thirty-seven. There were two came in on crutches, And two had each but a hand, To pour the wine and raise the cup As we toasted “Our Flag and Land!” And the room seemed filled with whispers As we looked at the vacant seats, And with choking throats we pushed aside The rich but untasted meats;
Then in silence we brimmed our glasses As we stood up—just eleven— And bowed as we drank to the Loved and the Dead Who had made us Thirty-seven! Uebersetzung von Friedrich Gerstäcker. Drei Jahre sind es heut' gerad', Da kamen zusammen wir In diesem Saale, im vollen Staat Siebenunddrei&esset; Offizier'; Und tausend Mann, eine wack're Schaar, Die führten wir zum Strau&esset;. Aus diesem Saale,'s nun drei Jahr, Da rückten wir fröhlich aus. O welch ein gro&esset;er Tag war der, Der uns dem Schwert getraut, Wie funkelte so hell und hehr die scharfgeschlissne Braut! Wie funkelten uns zu Stolz und Lust In der Sonne Glanz und Strahl Die tausend Klingen von Eisen just Und die siebenunddrei&esset;ig von Stahl! Von den tausend Bajonneten nun Zweihundert halten noch Stand, Denn hunderte in den Süpfen ruhn, Und hundert' in Maryland, Und andere hundert—treu und brav, Die schleppen—verkrüppelt und wund, Durch's Leben sich noch, und neiden den Schlaf Der Todten im blutigen Grund.
Und die Klingen? heut Abend im nälichen Saal Da kam aus dem Schlachtgewühl Der Rest zusammen—noch elf an der Zahl, Für siebenunddrei&esset;ig Stühl'. Zwei hinkten an Krücken nur fürba&esset;, Zwei hatten je eine Hand, Aber hoch erhob die eine das Glas Zum Toast: ,, Unser Banner und Land!" Und mit Thränen füllte sich jeder Blick, Zu viel Stühle standen ja leer— die Teller schoben sie Alle zurück, Nur die Gläser langten sie her, Und schweigend schenkten sie wieder ein Und hoben den Trank zum Mund; Den Todten brachten sie still den Wein, Den Schläfern im blutigen Grund. And here a curious complication of literary DEVASTATIO BELLI. Circum ter orbis volvitur annuus, Postquam supinas sustulimus manus Septem et triginta, cuspidesque Mille acie micuere acutâ.
Dies dierum, nobilis, inclytus! Dies fideli pectore conditus! Dies coruscus nuptiarum, Cuspide cum gladio revinctâ! Cantus tubarum, flamina tibiæ Sub axe puro stridula personant; Clare nitescunt mille tela, Lucida ferra micant reclusa. Ex mille duris cuspidibus ferè Restant ducenti, Virginiæ tenent Multos paludes (heu! nefandum), Terra tenet Mariana multos. Multi trahentes, sorte miserrimi! Confecta diro vulnere corpora, Campo cruento somniantes Invidiâ socios tuentur. Sol lumen orbi septimus attulit, Ex quo dolentes reliquiæ ensium, Undeni, ad integrum torale Conveniunt, dapibus paratis. Fulti bacillis sunt miseri duo, Manus duobus singula, quâ tulit Cratera, quum vexillo amato, Et patriæ cyathos dabamus. Plena et susurris interior domus Sedes relictas visa tuentibus, Nec passus angor mentis ore Sumere delicias saporum.
Vinum coronant, surgimus undecim; Stat quisque fleno vertice, tristius Propinat amissis, amatis, Nec lacrymæ caruêre amaræ. The Germans are a people noted for their classical RESIGNED. Never again on the shoulder To see our knightly bars; Never again on the shoulder To see our lordly leaves; Never again to follow The flag of the Stripes and Stars; Never again to dream the dream That martial music weaves. Never again to call Comrade To the men who were comrades for years; Never to hear the bugles, Thrilling and sweet and solemn; Never again call Brother, To the men we think of with tears; Never again to ride or march In the dust of the marching column.
Never again be a sharer In the first chilly hours of the strife, When, at dawn, the skirmish-rifles In opening chorus rattle; Never again feel our manhood Kindle up into ruddy life, 'Midst the hell of scenes and noises In the hot hours of the battle. Crippled, forlorn, and useless— The glory of life grown dim; Brooding alone o'er the memory Of the men who fell at my side; Nursing a painful fancy, And nursing a shattered limb— Oh, comrades! resigning is bitter: 'Twere better with them to have died.
Halpine, Charles G. (Charles Graham), 1829-1868 [1866], Baked meats of the funeral: a collection of essays, poems, speeches, histories, and banquets. Collected, revised, and edited, with the requisite corrections of punctuation, spelling, and grammar, by an ex-colonel... (Carleton, New York) [word count] [eaf563T]. |