Forward the Light Brigade!'
Was there a man dismay'd?
Not tho' the soldier knew
Some one had blunder'd:
Their's not to make reply,
Their's not to reason why,
Their's but to do and die:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.

For words, like Nature, half reveal
And half conceal the Soul within.

Edward Bull
The curate; he was fatter than his cure.

God of battles, was ever a battle like this in the world before?

Great in council and great in war,
Foremost captain of his time.