WAR
Oh! wherefore come ye forth in triumph from the North,
With your hands and your feet, and your raiment all red?
And wherefore doth your rout send forth a joyous shout?
And whence be the grapes of the wine-press which ye tread?
The essence of war is violence. Moderation in
war is imbecility.
Attributed to Lord Fisher during the great
War. Taken from Macaulay's Essay on
Lord Nugent' s Memorials of Hampden.
Take up our quarrel with the foe!
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders' fields.
John McCrae—In Flanders' Fields. (We
shall not Sleep.)
| seealso = (See also Galbreath, and McCrae under Poppies)
| topic = War
| page = 851
}}
{{Hoyt quote
| num =
| text = <poem>Di qui nacque che tutti li profeti armati vinsero, e li disarmati rovinarono.
Hence it happened that all the armed
prophets conquered, all the unarmed perished.
Machiavelli—II Principe. C. 6.
War in men's eyes shall be
A monster of iniquity
In the good time coming.
Nations shall not quarrel then,
To prove which is the stronger;
Nor slaughter men for glory's sake;—
Wait a little longer.
Charms Mackay—The Good Time Coming.
We want no war of conquest. . . . War
should never be entered upon until every agency
of peace has failed.
William McKinley—Inaugural Address.
Washington, March 4, 1897.
| seealso = (See also Wilson)
| topic = War
| page = 851
}}
{{Hoyt quote
| num =
| text = <poem>The warpipes are pealing, "The Campbells are
coming."
They are charging and cheering. O dinna ye
hear it?
Alexander Maclagan—Jennie's Dream.
| seealso = (See also {{sc|Lowell)
g
There's some say that we wan, some say that
they wan,
Some say that nane wan at a man.
But one thing I'm sure that at Sheriff-Muir,
A battle there was which I saw, man.
And we ran and they ran, and they ran and we
ran,
And we ran, and they ran awa', man.
Murdoch McLennan—Sheriff-Muir. (An
indecisive battle, Nov. 13, 1715.)
WAR
J'y suis, et j'y reste.
Here I am and here I stay.
MacMahon, before Malakoff.
Gabriel
Hanotaux, in Contemporary France, says
that MacMahon denied this. Marquis de
Castellane claimed the phrase in the Revue
Hebdomodaire, May, 1908. Contradicted
by L'Eclair, which quoted a letter by Gen.
Biddulph to Germain Bapst, in which
Gen. Biddulph tells that MacMahon said
to him "Que j'y suis, et que j'y reste."
And, though the warrior's sun has set,
Its light shall linger round us yet,
Bright, radiant, blest.
Don Joroe Manrique—Coplas De Manrique.
Last lines. Trans, by Longfellow.
Marlbrough s'en va-t-en guerre,
Mironton, mironton, mirontaine,
Marlbrough s'en va-t-en guerre,
Ne sait quand reviendra.
Marbrough (or Marlebrouck) S'en va-t-en
Guerre. Old French Song. Attributed to
Mme. de Sevigne. Found in Rondes avec
Jeux et Petites Chansons traditionnelles, Pub.
by Augener. Said to refer to Charles,
Third Duke of Marlborough's unsuccessful
expedition against Cherbourg or Malplaquet, probably the latter. (1709) See
King's Classical Quotations. Ak probably
sung by the Crusaders of Godfrey de Bouillon, known in America "We won't go home
until morning." Sung today in the East,
tradition giving it that the ancestors of the
Arabs learned it at the battle of Mansurah,
April 5, 1250. The same appears in a
-Basque Pastorale; also in Chansons de Geste.
Air known to the Egyptians.
And silence broods like spirit on the brae,
A glimmering moon begins, the moonlight runs
Over the grasses of the ancient way
Rutted this morning by the passing guns.
Masefteld—August 14. In Philip the King.
For a flying foe
Discreet and provident conquerors build up
A bridge of gold.
| author = Massinger
| work = The Guardian. Act I. Sc. 1.
(.See also Rabelais}})
| topic = War
| page = 851
}}
{{Hoyt quote
| num =
| text = <poem>Some undone widow sits upon mine arm,
And takes away the use of it; and my sword,
Glued to my scabbard with wronged orphan's
tears,
Will not be drawn.
| author = Massinger
| work = New Way to Pay Old Debts. Act
V. Sc. 1.
Wars and rumours of wars.
Matthew. XXIV. 6.
{{Hoyt quote
| num = | text = <poem>Now deeper roll the maddening drums,
And the mingling host like ocean heaves: While from the midst a horrid wailing comes, And high above the fight the lonely bugle grieves. Granville Mellen—The Lonely Bugle Grieves. Ode on the Celebration of Battle of Bunker Hill. June 17, 1825. (Mellen is called the "Singer of one Song" from this Ode.)
