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Updated: May 1, 2025
And I have so wrought upon the host 'leaguering Constantinople that they have sent ten thousand men under the Emir Tarkash to succour the capitves, of whom there be now left but few; it is therefore my object that ye sally forth against them with all your power while this day endureth; and that ye fall on them in their tents and that ye leave them not till ye shall have slain them to the last man; for, verily the Messiah looketh down upon you and the Blessed Virgin favoureth you; and I hope of the Messiah that he forget not what deed I have done."
Now, far on their right, buried in the damp shade of immemorial verdure, lay, untrodden and voiceless, the fields where stretched the leaguering lines of Washington where the lilies of France floated beside the banners of the new-born republic, and where in later years embattled treason confronted the manhood of an outraged nation.
Towards the close of the century appeared Gibbon's great work, the Decline and Fall, a prose epic in seventy-one books, upon the last victories, the last triumphs, and the long, reluctant death-struggles of the Roman Empire, the insidious advance of inner decay, the ever-renewed assaults of foreign violence, the Goth, the Saracen, the Mongol, and at the close, the leaguering lines of Mahomet, the farewell to the Greeks of the last of the Constantines, the Ottomans in the palaces of the Caesars, and the melancholy musings of an Italian scholar over the ruins on the Seven Hills.
CHARLES. Welcome, my trusty citizens of Orleans! What tidings bring ye from my faithful town? Doth she continue with her wonted zeal Still bravely to withstand the leaguering foe? SENATOR. Ah, sire! the city's peril is extreme; And giant ruin, waxing hour by hour, Still onward strides.
On dim Cithaeron's ridge appears The gleam of twice ten thousand spears; And downward to the Isthmian plain, From shore to shore of either main, The tent is pitched, the crescent shines Along the Moslem's leaguering lines; And the dusk Spae'hi's bands advance Beneath each bearded pae'sha's glance; And far and wide as eye can reach The turbaned cohorts throng the beach; And there the Arab's camel kneels, And there his steed the Tartar wheels; The Turcoman has left his herd, The sabre round his loins to gird; And there the volleying thunders pour, Till waves grow smoother to the roar.
He was now the Army's child indeed, stepping round the world to a lilt of the bagpipes, with the currachd the caul of safety as surely his as it was Black Duncan the seaman's. There were battles in the open, and leaguering of towns, but his was the enchanted corps moving from country to country through victory, and always the same comrades were about the camp-fire at night.
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