Poems from the works of Charles Cotton; newly decorated by Claud Lovat Fraser . 44. The Squadron nearest to your Eye Is his Forlorn of Infantry, Bowmen of unrelenting Minds, Whose Shafts are Feathered with the Winds. Now you may see his Van-guard riseAbove the Earthy Precipice,Bold Horse on bleakest Mountains Hail instead of Provend fed. Their Launces are the pointed LocksTorn from the Brows of Frozen Rocks,Their Shields are Chrystals as their Swords,The steel the rusted Rock affords. See the main Body now hark the Aeolian TrumpettersBy their Hoarse Levets do declareThat

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Poems from the works of Charles Cotton; newly decorated by Claud Lovat Fraser . 44. The Squadron nearest to your Eye Is his Forlorn of Infantry, Bowmen of unrelenting Minds, Whose Shafts are Feathered with the Winds. Now you may see his Van-guard riseAbove the Earthy Precipice,Bold Horse on bleakest Mountains Hail instead of Provend fed. Their Launces are the pointed LocksTorn from the Brows of Frozen Rocks,Their Shields are Chrystals as their Swords,The steel the rusted Rock affords. See the main Body now hark the Aeolian TrumpettersBy their Hoarse Levets do declareThat the bold General rides there. And look when Mantled up in steads it like the Muscovite:I know him by the Port he bearsAnd his Life-guard of Mountaineers.

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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1920, bookidcu3192401317, bookyear1922