Parodies of the works of English and American authors, collected and annotated by W. Hamilton, 4. kötet

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24. oldal - Howe'er it be, it seems to me, 'Tis only noble to be good. Kind hearts are more than coronets, And simple faith than Norman blood.
95. oldal - Slowly and sadly we laid him down From the field of his fame fresh and gory ; We carved not a line, we raised not a stone, But we left him alone with his glory!
180. oldal - But half of our heavy task was done When the clock struck the hour for retiring : And we heard the distant and random gun That the foe was sullenly firing. Slowly and sadly we laid him down, From the field of his fame fresh and gory; We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone, But we left him alone with his glory.
161. oldal - They now to fight are gone, Armour on armour shone, Drum now to drum did groan, To hear was wonder ; That with the cries they make, The very earth did shake, Trumpet to trumpet spake, Thunder to thunder.
171. oldal - Break, break, break, On thy cold gray stones, O Sea! And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me. O well for the fisherman's boy, That he shouts with his sister at play!
2. oldal - He saw thro' life and death, thro' good and ill, He saw thro' his own soul. The marvel of the everlasting will, An open scroll, Before him lay...
114. oldal - I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER. I REMEMBER, I remember The house where I was born, The little window where the sun Came peeping in at morn : He never came a wink too soon, Nor brought too long a day, But now I often wish the night Had borne my breath away ! I remember, I remember...
8. oldal - On one side lay the Ocean, and on one Lay a great water, and the moon was full. Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere : ' The sequel of to-day unsolders all The goodliest fellowship of famous knights Whereof this world holds record. Such a sleep They sleep — the men I loved. I think that we Shall never more, at any future time, Delight our souls with talk of knightly deeds, Walking about the gardens and the halls 2O Of Camelot, as in the days that were. I perish by this people which I made, —...
66. oldal - And looks the whole world in the face, For he owes not any man. Week in, week out, from morn till night, You can hear his bellows blow; You can hear him swing his heavy sledge, With measured beat and slow, Like a sexton ringing the village bell, When the evening sun is low.
167. oldal - In the spring a fuller crimson comes upon the robin's breast; In the spring the wanton lapwing gets himself another crest; In the spring a livelier iris changes on the burnish'd dove; In the spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.

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