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 LL over for me The struggle, and possible glory ! All swept past, In the rush of my own brigade. Will charges instead, And fills up my place in the story ; Well —'tis well, By the merry old games we played. There's a fellow asleep, the lout ! in the shade of the hillock yonder ; What a dog it must be to drowse in the midst of a time like this ! Why, the horses might neigh contempt at him ; what is he like, I wonder ? If the smoke would but clear away, I have strength in me yet to hiss.