Macaronic poetry, collected with an intr. by J.A. Morgan

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Hurd & Houghton, 1872 - 300 oldal

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20. oldal - Who hath woe? who hath sorrow? who hath contentions ? who hath babbling ? who hath wounds without cause ? who hath redness of eyes ? they that tarry long at the wine ; they that go to seek mixed wine. Look not thou upon the wine when it is red, when it giveth its colour in the cup, when it moveth itself aright : At the last it biteth like a serpent, and stingeth like an adder.
179. oldal - The foles, languescent, pend from arid rames; His humid front the cive, anheling, wipes, And dreams of erring on ventiferous ripes. How dulce to vive occult to mortal eyes, Dorm on the herb with none to supervise, Carp the suave berries from the crescent vine, And bibe the flow from longicaudate kine! To me, alas ! no verdurous visions come, Save yon exiguous...
15. oldal - The whole alphabet, with the E alone excepted, is contained in the following, written with eafe without E's. A jovial fwain may rack his brain, And tax his fancy's might, To quiz in vain, for 'tis moft plain, That what I fay is right. Each verfe of the following, alfo. is both lipogrammatic and pangrammatic ; containing every letter of the alphabet, except E. THE FATE OF NASSAN. Bold...
92. oldal - Short life, in truth, this thing doth try, "Wherefore, come, death, and let me die. Come, gentle death, the ebb of care; The ebb of care the flood of life ; The flood of life, the joyful fare; The joyful fare, the end of strife— The end of strife that thing wish I, Wherefore, come, death and let me die.
7. oldal - Then did he make heaven's vault to rebound With rounce robble bobble, Of ruffe raffe roaring, With thicke thwacke thurly bouncing.
37. oldal - Lamb, then Dean of the Arches, shot her through and through, with an arrow borrowed from her own quiver...
19. oldal - As for altars and pyramids in poetry, he has outdone all men that way; for he has made a gridiron and a. frying-pan in verse, that, besides the likeness in shape, the very tone and sound of the words did perfectly represent the noise that is made by these utensils, such as the old poet called Sartago loquendi.
159. oldal - A CAROL BRINGING IN THE BORE'S HEAD. Caput apri defero Reddens laudes Domino. The bore's heed in hande bring I, With garlands gay and rofemary, I pray you all fynge merelye Qui eftis in convivio. The bore's heed I underftande Is the thefte fervice in this lande, Take wherever it be fande, Servite cum cantico. Be gladde lordes both more and lafle, For this hath ordeyned our ftewarde, To cheere you all this Chriftmaffe, The bore's heed with muftarde. Caput apri defero Reddens laudes Domino.
78. oldal - I cannot eat but little meat, My stomach is not good: But sure I think that I can drink With him that wears a hood.
41. oldal - The lion is come up from his thicket, and the destroyer of the Gentiles is on his way ; he is gone forth from his place to make thy land desolate ; and thy cities shall be laid waste without an inhabitant.

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