There my retreat the best companions grace,
  Chiefs out of war, and statesmen out of place;
  There St. John mingles with my friendly bowl,
  The feast of reason and the flow of soul.
Imitations of Horace, Satire I. Bk.  II.  A. POPE.

  Here thou, great Anna! whom three realms obey,
  Dost sometimes counsel take—­and sometimes tea.
Rape of the Lock, Canto III.  A. POPE.

  Among unequals what society
  Can sort, what harmony, or true delight?
Paradise Lost, Bk.  VIII.  MILTON.

  The company is “mixed” (the phrase I quote is
  As much as saying, they’re below your notice).
Beppo.  LORD BYRON.

  Society is now one polished horde. 
  Formed of two mighty tribes, the Bores and Bored.
Don Juan, Canto XI.  LORD BYRON.

SOLDIER.

  He stands erect; his slouch becomes a walk;
  He steps right onward, martial in his air,
  His form and movement.
The Task, Bk.  IV.  W. COWPER.

  A braver soldier never couched lance,
  A gentler heart did never sway in court.
King Henry VI., Pt.  I. Act iii.  Sc. 2.  SHAKESPEARE.

  Unbounded courage and compassion joined,
  Tempering each other in the victor’s mind,
  Alternately proclaim him good and great,
  And make the hero and the man complete.

* * * * *

And, pleased the Almighty’s orders to perform,
Rides in the whirlwind and directs the storm.
The Campaign.  J. ADDISON.

So restless Cromwell could not cease
In the inglorious arts of peace. 
But through adventurous war
Urged his active star.
A Horatian Ode:  Upon Cromwell’s Return from Ireland. 
A. MARVELL.

’T is the soldier’s life
To have their balmy slumbers waked with strife.
Othello, Act ii.  Sc. 3.  SHAKESPEARE.

Some for hard masters, broken under arms,
In battle lopt away, with half their limbs,
Beg bitter bread thro’ realms their valor saved.
Night Thoughts, Night I.  DR. E. YOUNG.

His breast with wounds unnumbered riven,
His back to earth, his face to heaven.
The Giaour.  LORD BYRON.

Wut’s words to them whose faith an’ truth
On War’s red techstone rang true metal,
Who ventured life an’ love an’ youth
For the gret prize o’ death in battle?
The Biglow Papers, Second Series, No.  X. 
J.R.  LOWELL.

God’s soldier he be! 
Had I as many sons as I have hairs. 
I would not wish them to a fairer death: 
And so his knell is knolled.
Macbeth, Act v.  Sc. 8.  SHAKESPEARE.

               O, now, forever

Farewell the tranquil mind! farewell content! 
Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars,
That make ambition virtue!  O, farewell! 
Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump,