Parodies of the Works of English & American Authors, Tom 5Johnson Reprint Corporation, 1888 |
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Strona 2
... Beneath those rugged Elms , that Yew - Tree's shade , Where heaves the Turf in many a mould'ring Heap , Each in his narrow Cell for ever laid , The rude Forefathers of the Hamlet sleep . The breezy Call of Incense - breathing Morn , The ...
... Beneath those rugged Elms , that Yew - Tree's shade , Where heaves the Turf in many a mould'ring Heap , Each in his narrow Cell for ever laid , The rude Forefathers of the Hamlet sleep . The breezy Call of Incense - breathing Morn , The ...
Strona 3
... beneath yon aged Thorn . ' THE EPITAPH . Here rests his Head upon the Lap of Earth A Youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown : Fair Science frown'd not on his humble Birth , And Melancholy mark'd him for her own . 23 . Ev'n in our ashes ...
... beneath yon aged Thorn . ' THE EPITAPH . Here rests his Head upon the Lap of Earth A Youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown : Fair Science frown'd not on his humble Birth , And Melancholy mark'd him for her own . 23 . Ev'n in our ashes ...
Strona 4
... beneath their weight ; How jocund are their looks when dinner calls ! How smoke the cutlets on their crowded plate ! O , let not Temp'rance too disdainful hear How long our feasts , how long our dinners , last : Nor let the fair with a ...
... beneath their weight ; How jocund are their looks when dinner calls ! How smoke the cutlets on their crowded plate ! O , let not Temp'rance too disdainful hear How long our feasts , how long our dinners , last : Nor let the fair with a ...
Strona 7
... iron - grated tower , * The watchmen to the constable complain Of such as , in defiance to his power , Molest their ancient , solitary reign . The Round - house . Beneath those butchers stalls , that pent - house shade GRAY'S ELEGY 7 ་
... iron - grated tower , * The watchmen to the constable complain Of such as , in defiance to his power , Molest their ancient , solitary reign . The Round - house . Beneath those butchers stalls , that pent - house shade GRAY'S ELEGY 7 ་
Strona 8
Beneath those butchers stalls , that pent - house shade , Where rankling offals fret in many a heap , Each in his nasty stye of garbage laid , The dextrous sons of Buckhorse stink and sleep . The chearful call of " Chair ! your honour ...
Beneath those butchers stalls , that pent - house shade , Where rankling offals fret in many a heap , Each in his nasty stye of garbage laid , The dextrous sons of Buckhorse stink and sleep . The chearful call of " Chair ! your honour ...
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Kluczowe wyrazy i wyrażenia
ancient bell beneath Bill blow boys brave breath burlesque Christabel cried crowd dear Deborah Lee Devil door dream e'en Eduard Strauss ELEGY eyes face fair fame fate fear fight fire Gilpin hand hath head hear heard heart imitation Ingoldsby Legends John John Gilpin lady laugh London look Lord Lord Byron Maryland morn ne'er never night O'Brine o'er once parody passed Peter Bell play poem poet poor Punch quoth rose round shore sigh sing smile song sorrow soul spake stand stood street sweet swells swore tears tell thee There's things THOMAS GRAY thou thought thro Tory town Tullamore Twas verses omitted voice W. M. THACKERAY Walt Whitman WILLIAM WORDSWORTH wind Wordsworth written Yankee Doodle Yankee doodle dandy youth
Popularne fragmenty
Strona 234 - Over earth and ocean with gentle motion This pilot is guiding me, Lured by the love of the genii that move In the depths of the purple sea ; Over the rills, and the crags, and the hills, Over the lakes and the plains, Wherever he dream, under mountain or stream, The Spirit he loves remains ; And I all the while bask in heaven's blue smile, Whilst he is dissolving in rains.
Strona 97 - She was a Phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight; A lovely Apparition sent To be a moment's ornament; Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair; Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair; But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful Dawn; A dancing Shape, an Image gay, To haunt, to startle, and waylay.
Strona 311 - It must be so ; Plato, thou reasonest well; Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire, This longing after immortality? Or whence this secret dread and inward horror Of falling into nought? Why shrinks the soul Back on herself, and startles at destruction? 'Tis the Divinity that stirs within us ; 'Tis heaven itself that points out an hereafter, And intimates eternity to man.
Strona 234 - I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, From the seas and the streams; I bear light shade for the leaves when laid In their noonday dreams. From my wings are shaken the dews that waken The sweet buds every one, When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, As she dances about the sun.
Strona 51 - A stranger yet to pain ! I feel the gales that from ye blow A momentary bliss bestow, As waving fresh their gladsome wing My weary soul they seem to soothe, And, redolent of joy and youth, To breathe a second spring.
Strona 76 - Ye winds, that have made me your sport Convey to this desolate shore Some cordial, endearing report Of a land I shall visit no more: My friends, do they now and then send A wish or a thought after me? Oh, tell me I yet have a friend, Though a friend I am never to see.
Strona 97 - A countenance in which did meet Sweet records, promises as sweet ; A creature not too bright or good For human nature's daily food : For transient sorrows, simple wiles, Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.
Strona 313 - Her buskins gemmed with morning dew, Blew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket rung, The hunter's call to Faun and Dryad known ! The oak-crowned Sisters and their chaste-eyed Queen Satyrs and Sylvan Boys were seen Peeping from forth their alleys green : Brown Exercise rejoiced to hear ; And Sport leaped up, and seized his beechen spear.
Strona 124 - I played a soft and doleful air, I sang an old and moving story — An old rude song, that suited well That ruin wild and hoary. She listened with a flitting blush, With downcast eyes and modest grace; For well she knew I could not choose But gaze upon her face.
Strona 88 - A simple Child, That lightly draws its breath, And feels its life in every limb, What should it know of death ? I met a little cottage Girl : She was eight years old, she said ; Her hair was thick with many a curl That clustered round her head. She had a rustic, woodland air, And she was wildly clad ; Her eyes were fair, and very fair, — Her beauty made me glad. " Sisters and brothers, little maid, How many may you be 1 " " How many t Seven in all," she said, And wondering looked at me. " And where...