Parodies of the Works of English & American Authors, 3. kötetReeves & Turner, 1886 Includes parodies of Tennyson, Longfellow, Bret Harte, Thomas Hood, Swinburne, Browning, Shakespeare, Milton, Poe, Shelley, Cowper, Coleridge, Herrick, Carroll, Lever, Lover, Burns, Scott, Goldsmith, Kingsley, Byron and many others. |
Részletek a könyvből
1 - 5 találat összesen 66 találatból.
vi. oldal
... gone . W. M. Thackeray The Sailor Boy on a tour is gone . 1832 The leary cove to the Mill is gone . 1832 The fiddler's boy to the fair is gone 249 249 249 249 The Koh - i - noor to the wall has gone . Punch , 1851 The Cordon Bleu ...
... gone . W. M. Thackeray The Sailor Boy on a tour is gone . 1832 The leary cove to the Mill is gone . 1832 The fiddler's boy to the fair is gone 249 249 249 249 The Koh - i - noor to the wall has gone . Punch , 1851 The Cordon Bleu ...
viii. oldal
... gone ? " Punch , 1848 ... 100 The great kilt Reform . ... 100 ΙΟΙ Diogenes , 1854 ... " Oh where , and oh where , has our Wand'ring Willie gone . " Judy , 1879 BONNIE DUNDEE 91 ... " To the gents of the pantry ' twas Yellow - plush ...
... gone ? " Punch , 1848 ... 100 The great kilt Reform . ... 100 ΙΟΙ Diogenes , 1854 ... " Oh where , and oh where , has our Wand'ring Willie gone . " Judy , 1879 BONNIE DUNDEE 91 ... " To the gents of the pantry ' twas Yellow - plush ...
12. oldal
... Gone are thy dinners , dances , parties all , And early bed o'ertops the byegone ball , And trembling , lest they last should join the band , Far , far away , thy children leave the land . Ill fares the land to hastening ills a prey ...
... Gone are thy dinners , dances , parties all , And early bed o'ertops the byegone ball , And trembling , lest they last should join the band , Far , far away , thy children leave the land . Ill fares the land to hastening ills a prey ...
14. oldal
... gone ! Lady , he's dead and gone ! And at his head a green grass turfe , And at his heels a stone . " Within these holy cloysters long He lanquisht , and he dyed , Lamenting of a ladyes love , And ' playning of her pride . " " And art ...
... gone ! Lady , he's dead and gone ! And at his head a green grass turfe , And at his heels a stone . " Within these holy cloysters long He lanquisht , and he dyed , Lamenting of a ladyes love , And ' playning of her pride . " " And art ...
42. oldal
... Gone are their kindred , their friends are all scattered , Their children with famine are wasted and thin . Ah , my sad heart , as I look on this sorrow , Hopeless to - day , and despairing to - morrow , How can I dare any comfort to ...
... Gone are their kindred , their friends are all scattered , Their children with famine are wasted and thin . Ah , my sad heart , as I look on this sorrow , Hopeless to - day , and despairing to - morrow , How can I dare any comfort to ...
Más kiadások - Összes megtekintése
Parodies of the Works of English & American Authors, 3. kötet Walter Hamilton Nincs elérhető előnézet - 1967 |
Gyakori szavak és kifejezések
auld auld lang syne beautiful belles blow blue boys brave burlesque Burns CHARLES KINGSLEY charms cheer Cleuch dear drink Duke e'en e'er England eyes fair fame Father William friends Funny Folks Gladstone gone Greeking o't green groaning hath head hear heard heart hour imitation John John Anderson Lady land light London look Lord Byron loud maid meet morning ne'er never night niversity o'er Oliver Goldsmith once parody poem poet Poet Laureate poor praise pray Punch R. B. Sheridan replied roar Robert Burns ROBERT SOUTHEY round SHIRLEY BROOKS shout sigh sing sleep smile song soul Southey stood street sweet tell thee There's THOMAS CAMPBELL Thomas Moore thou thought Three Tory town twas verses victory wave weep Whigs wild wind wine women young man cried youth
Népszerű szakaszok
201. oldal - THE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold ; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
213. oldal - I STOOD in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs ; A palace and a prison on each hand : I saw from out the wave her structures rise As from the stroke of the enchanter's wand...
210. oldal - Ah ! then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago Blush'd at the praise of their own loveliness ; And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs, Which ne'er might be repeated...
54. oldal - John Anderson, my jo. John Anderson, my jo, John, We clamb the hill thegither; And monie a canty day, John, We've had wi' ane anither: Now we maun totter down, John, But hand in hand we'll go, And sleep thegither at the foot, John Anderson, my jo.
213. oldal - She looks a sea Cybele, fresh from ocean, Rising with her tiara of proud towers At airy distance, with majestic motion, A ruler of the waters and their powers : And such she was ; — her daughters had their dowers From spoils of nations, and the exhaustless East Pour'd in her lap all gems in sparkling showers. In purple was she robed, and of her feast Monarchs partook, and deem'd their dignity increased. Ill In Venice Tasso's echoes are no more, And silent rows the songless gondolier...
3. oldal - When lovely woman stoops to folly, And finds too late that men betray ; What charm can soothe her melancholy, What art can wash her guilt away ? The only art her guilt to cover, To hide her shame from every eye, To give repentance to her lover, And wring his bosom — is to die.
29. oldal - Twas autumn — and sunshine arose on the way To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back. I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so oft In life's morning march, when my bosom was young ; I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft, And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers sung.
223. oldal - Trust not for freedom to the Franks : They have a king who buys and sells ; In native swords, and native ranks, The only hope of courage dwells : But Turkish force and Latin fraud, Would break your shield, however broad.
30. oldal - Lo !. the death-shot of foemen outspeeding, he rode Companionless, bearing destruction abroad ; But down let him stoop from his havoc on high ! Ah ! home let him speed — for the spoiler is nigh. Why flames the far summit? Why shoot to the blast, Those embers, like stars from the firmament cast ? 'Tis the fire-shower of ruin, all dreadfully driven From his eyrie, that beacons the darkness of heaven. Oh, crested Lochiel ! the peerless in might, Whose banners arise on the battlements...
89. oldal - The bride kissed the goblet : the knight took it up, He quaffed off the wine, and he threw down the cup. She looked down to blush, and she looked up to sigh, With a smile on her lips and a tear in her eye. He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar, 'Now tread we a measure !