And on the field die fighting with the foe,
And not like cowards in this straitened town.
This deed will only serve, full well I know,
To change the mode in which we have to die,
For Death will march with us where'er we go.
Corabino.
In this thy bold resolve agreed am I,
I fain would perish breaking down that wall,
And single-handed breach it manfully.
But one thing giveth me concern not small,