The Warrior's Looking Glass: Wherein is Shewn from Many High Authorities, the Trivial Causes, Cruel Nature, Direful Effects and Anti-Christian Spirit and Practice of War
J. Crome, 1808 - Počet stran: 204
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The Warrior's Looking Glass: Wherein is Shewn from Many High Authorities ...
Zobrazení fragmentů - 1971
ambition army battle BATTLE OF BLENHEIM bear arms blood called chrijlians chris Christ Christendom christians church command conqueror consider creatures crime death destroy destruction Dioclesian Dion disciples divine dreadful earth EDWARD YOUNG enemies evil expence famine Father feel fight fire fome fuch give globe glory gospel hath havock heart heaven hero holy honour horrid human hundred idolatry inhabitants JONATHAN SWIFT Justin Martyr kill king kingdom land lives Lord Louvois mankind Maximian Maximilian military millions misery moral murder nations nature neral never opinion peace peaceable PETER DU MOULIN plunder poor practice pride prince profession reason religion replied revenge ruin SAMUEL CLARKE SAMUEL JOHNSON Satan slaughter soldiers species spirit suffered sword Tatian Tertullian thee thefe ther things thofe THOMAS TRYON thou thousand tion ture unlawful victory violence wars whole WILLIAM COWPER word
Strana 121 - Arcot, he drew from every quarter whatever a savage ferocity could add to his new rudiments in the arts of destruction ; and compounding all the materials of fury, havoc, and desolation, into one black cloud, he hung for a while on the declivities of the mountains. Whilst the authors of all these evils were idly and stupidly gazing on this menacing meteor, which blackened all their horizon, it suddenly burst, and poured down the whole of its contents upon the plains of the Carnatic.
Strana 90 - Sometimes one prince quarrels with another, for fear the other should quarrel with him. Sometimes a war is entered upon because the enemy is too strong, and sometimes because he is too weak. Sometimes our neighbours want the things which we have, or have the things which we want, and we both fight till they take ours, or give us theirs.
Strana 159 - Of brotherhood is sever'd as the flax That falls asunder at the touch of fire. He finds his fellow guilty of a skin Not colour'd like his own...
Strana 138 - tis no matter; Honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on ? how then ? Can honour set to a leg? No. Or an arm? No. Or take away the grief of a wound ? No. Honour hath no skill in surgery then ? No. What is honour? A word. What is in that word, honour? What is that honour? Air. A trim reckoning ! — Who hath it? He that died o
Strana 157 - twas a famous victory. 'My father lived at Blenheim then, Yon little stream hard by; They burnt his dwelling to the ground, And he was forced to fly: So with his wife and child he fled Nor had he where to rest his head.
Strana 138 - Wednesday. Doth he feel it? No. Doth he hear it? No. Is it insensible then? Yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the living ? No. Why? Detraction will not suffer it :— therefore I'll none of it : Honour is a mere scutcheon, and so ends my catechism.
Strana 149 - But did not Chance at length her error mend? Did no subverted empire mark his end? Did rival monarchs give the fatal wound ? Or hostile millions press him to the ground? His fall was destined to a barren strand, A petty fortress, and a dubious hand; He left the name, at which the world grew pale, To point a moral, or adorn a tale.
Strana 90 - ... and reduce them from their barbarous way of living. It is a very kingly, honourable, and frequent practice, when one prince desires the assistance of another, to secure him against an invasion, that the assistant, when he hath driven out the invader, should seize on the dominions himself, and kill, imprison or banish the prince he came to relieve.
Strana 158 - ... shocking sight After the field was won; For many thousand bodies here Lay rotting in the sun: But things like that, you know, must be After a famous victory. 'Great praise the Duke of Marlbro' won And our good Prince Eugene;' 'Why, 'twas a very wicked thing!' Said little Wilhelmine; 'Nay . . nay . . my little girl,' quoth he, 'It was a famous victory.