This champion of the gate. No fragile wall
Stands here for Caesar, blocking with its bulk
Pompeius' way to freedom. Now he trusts
His shield no more, lest his sinister hand,
Idle, give life by shame; and on his breast
Bearing a forest of spears, though spent with toil
And worn with onset, falls upon his foe
And braves alone the wounds of all the war.
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pouring into the cave of the dragon through the open door
bringing about an onward if not upward step. I was daily
he piled on story after story, until I was a little infuriated
newspaper men. Yet at times this LaClede was a kind of
reason to believe her dead, and that it was because of
just how they do over there. I was city editor there myself
even the Globe may well be proud of it—one of the finest
world, men who in one way or another had already achieved
at our arrival, and said one to the other, “This is the
in and advised concerning it. I went and looked into it
designs to a successful conclusion. One party he moved
create news, studying out interesting phases of past romances