War
Conscience avaunt, Richards himself again:
Hark! the shrill trumpet sounds, to horse, away,
My soul's in arms, and eager for the fray.
Put in their hands thy bruising irons of wrath,
That they toay crush down with heavy fall
The usurping helmets of our adversaries.
Richard III. Act V. Sc. 3. L. 110.
Fight, gentlemen of England! fight, bold yeomen!
Draw, archers, draw your arrows to the head!
Spur your proud horses hard, and ride in blood;
Amaze the welkin with your broken staves!
Richard III. Act V. Sc. 3. L. 338.
Follow thy drum;
With man's blood paint the ground, gules, gules;
Religious canons, civil laws are cruel;
Then what should war be?
Timon of Athens. Act IV. Sc. 3. L. 58.
There was only one virtue, pugnacity; only
one vice, pacifism. That is an essential condition of war.
Bernard Shaw—Heartbreak House: Preface.
Madness in Court.
a
In the arts of life man invents nothing; but in
the arts of death he outdoes Nature herself, and
produces by chemistry and machinery all the
slaughter of plague, pestilence and famine.
Bernard Shaw—Man and Superman.
They shall not pass, tho' battleline
May bend, and foe with foe combine,
Tho' death rain on them from the sky
Till every fighting man shall die,
France shall not yield to German Rhine.
Alice M. Shepard—They Shall Not Pass.
| seealso = (See also Bates)
| topic = War
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{{Hoyt quote
| num =
| text = <poem>Hold the Fort! I am coming.
Gen. W. T. Sherman—Signalled to Gen.
Corse. Oct. 5, 1864.
War is Hell.
Attributed to General Sherman. (Not remembered by him.) John Koolbeck, of
Harlem, Iowa, who was Aide de Camp to
Gen. Winslow, testifies that after the battle of Vicksburg, 1861, Gen. Sherman was
watching the crossing of the army across a
pontoon bridge, at the river Pearl. Koolbeck distinctly heard him say: "War is
Hell." See Everybody's. Oct., 1918. P. 71.
| seealso = (See also Alexander, Van Dyke)
| topic = War
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}}
{{Hoyt quote
| num =
| text = <poem>J'ai vecu.
I existed.
Sieyes, when asked What he did during the
Reign of Terror. See Mignet—Notices
Hist. I. 81.
Sainte Jeanne went harvesting in France,
But an! what found she there?
The little streams were running red,
And the torn fields were bare;
And all about the ruined towers
WAR
Where once her king was crowned,
The hurtling ploughs of war and death
Had scored the desolate ground.
Marion Couthouy Smith—Sainte Jeanne of
France.
Every shot has its commission, d'ye see? We
must all die at one time, as the saying is.
Smollett—The Reprisal. Act III. 8.
| seealso = (See also Gascoigne)
| topic = War
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{{Hoyt quote
| num =
| text = <poem>I came, I saw, God overcame.
John Sobieski—to the Pope, with the captured Mussulman standards.
| seealso = (See also Cesar)
| topic = War
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}}
{{Hoyt quote
| num =
| text = <poem>Terrible as an army with banners.
Song of Solomon. VI. 4 and 10.
Then more fierce
The conflict grew; the din of arms, the yell
Of savage rage, the shriek of agony,
The groan of death, commingled in one sound
Of undistinguish'd horrors.
Southey—Modoc. Pt. II. XV.
16
Either this or upon this. (Either bring this
ba,ck or be brought back upon it.)
Said to be a Spartan mother's words to her
son on giving him his shield.
War! war! war!
Heaven aid the right!
God move the hero's arm in the fearful fight!
God send the women sleep in the long, long night,
When the breasts on whose strength they
leaned shall heave no more.
E. C Stedman—Alice of Monmouth. VII.
The crystal-pointed tents from hill to hill
E. C. Stedman—Alice of Monmouth. XI.
But, Virginians, don't do it, for I tell you that
the flagon,
Filled with blood of Old Brown's offspring,
was first poured by Southern hands;
And each drop from Old Brown's life-veins, like
the red gore of the Dragon,
May spring up a vengeful Fury, hissing through
your slave-worn lands:
And Old Brown,
Osawatomie Brown,
May trouble you worse than ever, when you've
nailed his coffin down.
E. C. Stedman—How Old Broun Took Harper's Ferry. Written during Brown's Trial.
Nov., 1859.
Hobbes clearly proves that every creature
Lives in a state of war by nature.
Swift—Poetry. A Rhapsody.
War, that mad game the world so loves to play.
Swift—Ode to Sir Wm. Temple.
{{Hoyt quote
| num = | text = <poem>Not with dreams, but with blood and with iron
Shall a nation be moulded to last. Swinburne—A Word for the Country.
| seealso = (See also {{sc|Bismarck)
