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Updated: May 14, 2025
Shame on the coward, caitiff hands That smote their Lord or with a kiss Betrayed him to the rabble-rout Of fawning priests no friends of his. May everlasting shame consume The memory of those who tried To befoul and smear the exalted name Of one who spurned them in his pride. He fell as fall the mighty ones, Nobly undaunted to the last, And death has now united him With Erin's heroes of the past.
The first, pushed forward by those behind them, and driven back by the guards and pontonniers, or stopped by the river, were crushed, trod underfoot, or precipitated among the floating ices of the Berezina. From this immense and horrible rabble-rout there arose at times a confused buzzing noise, at others a loud clamour, mingled with groans and fearful imprecations.
My blood was up in a moment; I had not had a Tussle with any one for a long time. "Shall I who have brained an English Grenadier sneak off before a rabble-rout of Sauerkraut Soldiers?" I asked myself, remembering how much Stronger and Older I had grown since that night. But 'twas a mad attempt.
Jean's, opposite the school.... Then at night there was a procession such a pandemonium! such a rabble-rout, with music and shouting, soldiers marching at the double, carrying blazing torches, and a cloud of paper lanterns that caught fire and flared out. We could hear the discordant riot ever so far off, and when the mob came up our street again, almost in the dark, I covered my ears.
"Just then, from amid the rabble-rout of infidels, there burst a small troop of Moorish horse. Swiftly they flew across the plain, hoping by dint of hoof to reach the city unscathed. Their silken mantles floated in the wind, as they spurred their horses to the top of their speed, and they preserved the finest order in their tumultuous flight.
Up went the windows all along the street, the rabble-rout of boys yelled and huzzaed like mad. The maids popped their mob-caps out of the attics, and giggled, and hung out at the risk of their necks. The serving men ran out on the hall-door steps. The village roués emerged in haste from their public houses. The whole scene round and along from top to bottom, was grinning and agape.
"I prefer," replied Andrew, with his wide grin, "to keep my faith in mankind and horses." "And I," said Bakkus, "love to realize myself for what I really am, an imbecile, a knave, and a useless craver of money for which I've not had the indignity of working. It soothes me to feel that for all my heritage of culture I am nothing more or less than one of the rabble-rout.
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