The Complete Poems of W. M. ThackerayWhite, Stokes, and Allen, 1883 - 226 |
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Strona 9
... guard the good town of Quebec . " In the year fifty - nine came the Britons , - Full well I remember the day , — They knocked at our gates for admittance , Their vessels were moor'd in our bay . Says our general , ' Drive me yon red ...
... guard the good town of Quebec . " In the year fifty - nine came the Britons , - Full well I remember the day , — They knocked at our gates for admittance , Their vessels were moor'd in our bay . Says our general , ' Drive me yon red ...
Strona 10
... ; Monsieur , who was learned in Horace , D'Artois , who could dance the tight - rope . One night we kept guard for the Queen At her Majesty's opera - box , While the King , that majestical monarch , Sat filing 10 BALLADS .
... ; Monsieur , who was learned in Horace , D'Artois , who could dance the tight - rope . One night we kept guard for the Queen At her Majesty's opera - box , While the King , that majestical monarch , Sat filing 10 BALLADS .
Strona 18
... guard , And our drums beat the notes of salute . * * * * " I look'd when the drumming was o'er , I look'd , but our hero was gone ; We were destined to see him once more , When we fought on the Mount of St. John . The Emperor rode ...
... guard , And our drums beat the notes of salute . * * * * " I look'd when the drumming was o'er , I look'd , but our hero was gone ; We were destined to see him once more , When we fought on the Mount of St. John . The Emperor rode ...
Strona 76
... guard him well ! -he draws his falchion keen , The giant and the knight — are fighting on the green . I see them in my dreams — his blade gives stroke on stroke , The giant pants and reels — and tumbles like an oak ! With what a ...
... guard him well ! -he draws his falchion keen , The giant and the knight — are fighting on the green . I see them in my dreams — his blade gives stroke on stroke , The giant pants and reels — and tumbles like an oak ! With what a ...
Strona 77
... guards his life ! In the woods of Powhattan , Still ' tis told by Indian fires , How a daughter of their sires Saved the captive Englishman . FROM POCAHONTAS . RETURNING from the cruel fight How pale POCAHONTAS . 77 POCAHONTAS (The ...
... guards his life ! In the woods of Powhattan , Still ' tis told by Indian fires , How a daughter of their sires Saved the captive Englishman . FROM POCAHONTAS . RETURNING from the cruel fight How pale POCAHONTAS . 77 POCAHONTAS (The ...
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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.