Parodies of the works of English and American authors, collected and annotated by W. Hamilton, 2. kötet

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162. oldal - His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide For his shrunk shank ; and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness and mere oblivion, Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything. As you LIKE
184. oldal - But here I am to speak what I do know. What cause withholds you then, to mourn for him ? O judgment ! thou art fled to brutish beasts, And men have lost their reason. Bear with me ; My heart is in the Coffin there with Caesar, And I must pause till it come back to me. Act
57. oldal - For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE; And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side Of my darling—my darling—my life, and my bride, Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE ; And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes In the sepulchre there by the sea,
188. oldal - FREDERIC UPTON, 1885. Amiens, Under the greenwood tree Who loves to lie with me, And turn his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throat. Come hither, come hither, come hither : Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather.
25. oldal - it was here, at this point of my preconsiderations, that I first put pen to paper in the composition of the stanza :— "Prophet," said I, " thing of evil ! prophet still if bird or devil ! By that heaven that bends above us—by the God we both adore, Tell this soul with sorrow laden, if within the distant
224. oldal - easy numbers flow ; and that each heart Hath, from the leaves of thy unvalued book, Those Delphic lines with deep impression took, Then thou, our fancy of itself bereaving, Dost make us marble with too much conceiving ; And, so sepulchred, in such pomp dost lie, That Kings, for such a tomb, would wish to die. JOHN MILTON.
57. oldal - And this was the reason that, long ago, In this kingdom by the sea, A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling My beautiful ANNABEL LEE ; So that her highborn kinsmen came, And bore her away from me, To shut her up in a sepulchre In this kingdom by the sea.
35. oldal - Ah ! distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember, glimmer'd ghostly on the floor: Earnestly I wished the morrow ; vainly had I sought to borrow From my Bible ease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Annore—• For a saintly, radiant matron, whom the angels name Annore Lately wife, now wife no more.
72. oldal - gush of euphony voluminously wells ! How it swells ! How it dwells On the future ! how it tells Of the rapture that impels To the swinging and the ringing Of the bells, bells, bells, Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells,— To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells.

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