| Artist | Engraver | Page | |
|---|---|---|---|
|
"Ho, Drummer! quick, silence yon Capet," Says Santerre, "with a beat of your drum." Lustily then did I tap it, And the son of Saint Louis was dumb." |
Pyle | French |
Fronti- spiece |
| Portrait of Thackeray | Laurence | Closson | Title |
| Ornamental title, Part I | Geo. Gibson | T. Hellawell | 1 |
|
On the sunshiny bench of a tavern
He sits and he prates of old wars |
Frost | J. Hellawell | 2 |
|
My ancestors drummed for King Harry,
The Huguenot lad of Navarre |
Fredericks | Karst | 4 |
|
The news it was brought to King Louis;
Corbleu! how his Majesty swore! |
Lungren | Closson | 6 |
|
* * * * Louis the Great,--
Old, lonely, and half broken-hearted |
Fredericks | Karst | 8 |
|
At Rossbach, in spite of dad's drumming,
'Tis said we were beaten by Fritz |
Taber | Heinemann | 11 |
| * * * The good town of Quebec | Schell | Geyer | 12 |
|
Dear mammy she looks in their faces,
And asks if her husband is come? He is lying all cold on the glacis, And will never more beat on the drum |
Frost | E. Clement | 14 |
|
* * The lovely court ladies in powder,
And lappets, and long satin-tails |
Lungren | Closson | 17 |
| At her Majesty's open-box | Lungren | J.P. Davis | 19 |
|
And so smiling she looked and so tender,
That our officers, privates, and drummers, All swore they would die to defend her |
Fredericks | Karst | 20 |
|
And, like a majestical monarch,
Kept filing his locks and his keys |
Fredericks | Winham | 23 |
| We stormed and we broke the great gate in | Share | Evans | 25 |
|
At midnight I beat the tattoo,
And woke up the pikemen of Paris To follow the bold Barbaroux |
Share | French | 27 |
|
* * the fair gardens where towered
The walls of his heritage splendid |
J.S. Davis | Smart | 28 |
|
I love to go sit in the sun there,
The flowers and fountains to see |
J.S. Davis | Annin | 30 |
|
Awful, and proud, and erect,
Here sat our republican goddess |
Pyle | French | 33 |
|
Young virgins with fair golden tresses,
Old silver-hair'd prelates and priests |
Fredericks | Karst | 34 |
| Ornamental title. Part II | Geo. Gibson | Andrew | 37 |
|
She looked from the bars of her prison,
And shriek'd as she saw it, and fell |
Pyle | E. Clement | 38 |
|
As she felt the foul fingers that touch'd her,
She shrank, but she deigned not to speak |
Birch | Wolf | 41 |
|
* * * the Austrian flags
Flaunt proud in the fields of Savoy |
Woodward | J. Hellawell | 43 |
|
The drummer now bared his old breast,
And show'd us a plenty of scars |
Frost | Karst | 45 |
|
A Brunswicker made it at Jena,
Beside the fair river of Saal |
Taylor | Heinemann | 47 |
| Had winter not driven them back | Woodward | Andrew | 49 |
|
* * he passed through the lines of his guard,
And our drums beat the notes of salute |
Taber | Held | 53 |
| The red-coats were crowning the height | Share | Heinemann | 55 |
|
* * * * At sunset
His banners were floating there still |
Woodward | Andrew | 57 |
| I'll give you a curse on all traitors | Frost | Held | 58 |
| The Grave historian at his desk | Taber | Heard | 64 |
