The Complete Poems of W. M. ThackerayWhite, Stokes, and Allen, 1883 - 226 |
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Strona 189
... " I left my native ground , I left my kin and kith , I left my royal crownd , Vich I couldn't travel vith , And without a pound came to English ground In the THE THREE CHRISTMAS WAITS . 189 THE THREE CHRISTMAS WAits,
... " I left my native ground , I left my kin and kith , I left my royal crownd , Vich I couldn't travel vith , And without a pound came to English ground In the THE THREE CHRISTMAS WAITS . 189 THE THREE CHRISTMAS WAits,
Strona 201
... Vich was passing on his beat , Like a true and galliant feller , Hup and down in Guilford Street . And that Pleaseman able - bodied Took this voman to the cell ; To the cell vere she was quodded , In the Close of Clerkenwell . And ...
... Vich was passing on his beat , Like a true and galliant feller , Hup and down in Guilford Street . And that Pleaseman able - bodied Took this voman to the cell ; To the cell vere she was quodded , In the Close of Clerkenwell . And ...
Strona 202
... ( Vich most every gurl expex , ) Let her take a jolly pleaseman ; Vich his name peraps is - X . DAMAGES , TWO HUNDRED POUNDS . SPECIAL Jurymen of England ! who admire your country's laws , And proclaim a British Jury worthy of the realm's ...
... ( Vich most every gurl expex , ) Let her take a jolly pleaseman ; Vich his name peraps is - X . DAMAGES , TWO HUNDRED POUNDS . SPECIAL Jurymen of England ! who admire your country's laws , And proclaim a British Jury worthy of the realm's ...
Strona 206
... vich King Bladud gev his name , And in that city there's a Crescent Vere dwelt a noble knight of fame . Although that gallant knight is oldish , Although Sir John as grey , grey air , Hage has not made his busum coldish , His Art still ...
... vich King Bladud gev his name , And in that city there's a Crescent Vere dwelt a noble knight of fame . Although that gallant knight is oldish , Although Sir John as grey , grey air , Hage has not made his busum coldish , His Art still ...
Strona 219
... ( vich the shares I don't desire ) , From Ixworth town in Suffolk , vich his name did not transpire . A travelling from Bury this Doctor was employed With a gentleman , a friend of his , vich his name was Captain Loyd , And on reaching ...
... ( vich the shares I don't desire ) , From Ixworth town in Suffolk , vich his name did not transpire . A travelling from Bury this Doctor was employed With a gentleman , a friend of his , vich his name was Captain Loyd , And on reaching ...
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Kluczowe wyrazy i wyrażenia
bade Bareacres beat bell bien bless blow blushing Bolton Row Bouillabaisse boys brave Brentford Buckley Square bussum cane-bottom'd chair captain cheek church Coort Cossacks cried crown cursed dear Doctor door-key drink drum drummer Eh gai eyes fair fight friars gallant gate gentle gentleman glory Grace gros Roger-Bontemps Guilford Street hair hear heard heart Heaven holy honest horgin-boys Hyacinth Jack Jeames King King Canute Kioff Kiow lady Lansdowne Crescent Lille little Bill look Lord Mary ne'er never night Nora o'er peace Peg of Limavaddy Pleaseman poor pooty POPE pore pound pray Prince Roney rose round Saint says Shannon shore shout sing smiling Sophia spoke sure sweet Pimlico sword thee There's thou thought thousand guineas took town Twas unto Valkin Vich vith weary WHITE SQUALL wine wondrous young YVETOT
Popularne fragmenty
Strona 85 - Bacchus' blessings are a treasure, Drinking is the soldier's pleasure: Rich the treasure, Sweet the pleasure, Sweet is pleasure after pain. Soothed with the sound, the king grew vain; Fought all his battles o'er again, And thrice he routed all his foes, and thrice he slew the slain!
Strona 69 - ... She was cutting bread and butter. Charlotte was a married lady, And a moral man was Werther, And, for all the wealth of Indies, Would do nothing for to hurt her. So he sighed and pined and ogled, . And his passion boiled and bubbled, Till he blew his silly brains out, And no more was by it troubled. Charlotte, having seen his body Borne before her on a shutter, Like a well-conducted person, Went on cutting bread and butter.
Strona 67 - Kneel undisturb'd, fair saint, Pour out your praise or plaint Meekly and duly. I will not enter there, To sully your pure prayer With thoughts unruly. But suffer me to pace Round the forbidden place, Lingering a minute, Like outcast spirits, who wait And see through Heaven's gate Angels within it. "Have you got any more, young fellow?
Strona 52 - Ah me! how quick the days are flitting? I mind me of a time that's gone, When here I'd sit, as now I'm sitting, In this same place — but not alone. A fair young form was nestled near me, A dear, dear face looked fondly up, And sweetly spoke and smiled to cheer me. — There's no one now to share my cup.
Strona 109 - THERE were three sailors of Bristol city Who took a boat and went to sea. But first with beef and captain's biscuits And pickled pork they loaded she. There was gorging Jack and guzzling Jimmy, And the youngest he was little Billee. Now when they got as far as the Equator They'd nothing left but one split pea. Says gorging Jack to guzzling Jimmy,
Strona 38 - And when, its force expended, The harmless storm was ended, And. as the sunrise splendid Came blushing o'er the sea ; I thought, as day was breaking, My little girls were waking, And smiling, and making A prayer at home for me.
Strona 125 - THERE lived a sage in days of yore And he a handsome pigtail wore ; But wondered much and sorrowed more Because it hung behind him. He mused upon this curious case, And swore he'd change the pigtail's place, And have it hanging at his face, Not dangling there behind him. Says he, " The mystery I've found, — I'll turn me round," — he turned him round; But still it hung behind him.
Strona 75 - POCAHONTAS. WEARIED arm and broken sword Wage in vain the desperate fight : Round him press a countless horde, He is but a single knight. Hark ! a cry of triumph shrill Through the wilderness resounds, As, with twenty bleeding wounds, Sinks the warrior, fighting still. Now they heap the fatal pyre, And the torch of death they light ; Ah ! 'tis hard to die of fire ! Who will shield the captive knight ? Round the stake with fiendish cry Wheel and dance the savage crowd, Cold the victim's mien, and...
Strona 132 - Aux filles de bonnes maisons Comme il avait su plaire, Ses sujets avaient cent raisons De le nommer leur père : D'ailleurs il ne levait de ban Que pour tirer quatre fois l'an Au blanc. Oh! oh! oh! oh! ah! ah! ah! ah!
Strona 116 - Though thrice a thousand years are past, Since David's son, the sad and splendid, The weary King Ecclesiast, Upon his awful tablets penned it, — Methinks the text is never stale, And life is every day renewing, Fresh comments on the old, old tale Of Folly, Fortune, Glory, Ruin.