Parodies of the Works of English & American Authors, 5. köideJohnson Reprint Corporation, 1888 |
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Page 7
... march the moving spirits rise , E'en in a minuet wake our youthful fires . For Thee , who , mindful of th ' unhonour'd dead , Dost in these lines the Guardian's Tale relate , If chance , by love of Elegy misled , Some kindred spirit ...
... march the moving spirits rise , E'en in a minuet wake our youthful fires . For Thee , who , mindful of th ' unhonour'd dead , Dost in these lines the Guardian's Tale relate , If chance , by love of Elegy misled , Some kindred spirit ...
Page 20
... march with glee ; To bed the sober shape their quiet way , And leave the lines to pensiveness and me . Now scarce a candle glimmers on the sight , And o'er the camp at length soft stillness reigns ; Save where the dice are dash'd with ...
... march with glee ; To bed the sober shape their quiet way , And leave the lines to pensiveness and me . Now scarce a candle glimmers on the sight , And o'er the camp at length soft stillness reigns ; Save where the dice are dash'd with ...
Page 24
... March 24 , 1810 , in which he questioned the power of the House of Commons to imprison delinquents . He at first resisted the execution of the warrant , and being a favourite with the mob , a street contest ensued between the military ...
... March 24 , 1810 , in which he questioned the power of the House of Commons to imprison delinquents . He at first resisted the execution of the warrant , and being a favourite with the mob , a street contest ensued between the military ...
Page 39
... march through rapine to repeal , And shut the mouths of protestant mankind . Our names , our deeds , spelt by the daily Muse The place of Fame and Elegy supply , And many a nasty gibe around she strews That cause the Irish moralist to ...
... march through rapine to repeal , And shut the mouths of protestant mankind . Our names , our deeds , spelt by the daily Muse The place of Fame and Elegy supply , And many a nasty gibe around she strews That cause the Irish moralist to ...
Page 55
... march his long array . Stout Glos'ter stood aghast ( † ) in speechless trance To arms ! cried Mortimer ( + ) and couch'd his quiv'ring lance . II . On a rock , whose haughty brow Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood , Rob'd in the ...
... march his long array . Stout Glos'ter stood aghast ( † ) in speechless trance To arms ! cried Mortimer ( + ) and couch'd his quiv'ring lance . II . On a rock , whose haughty brow Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood , Rob'd in the ...
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Common terms and phrases
ancient bell beneath Bill blow boys brave breath burlesque Christabel cried crowd dear Deborah Lee Devil door dream e'en Eduard Strauss ELEGY eyes face fair fame fate fear fight fire Gilpin hand hath head hear heard heart imitation Ingoldsby Legends John John Gilpin lady laugh London look Lord Lord Byron Maryland morn ne'er never night O'Brine o'er once parody passed Peter Bell play poem poet poor Punch quoth rose round shore sigh sing smile song sorrow soul spake stand stood street sweet swells swore tears tell thee There's things THOMAS GRAY thou thought thro Tory town Tullamore Twas verses omitted voice W. M. THACKERAY Walt Whitman WILLIAM WORDSWORTH wind Wordsworth written Yankee Doodle Yankee doodle dandy youth
Popular passages
Page 234 - Over earth and ocean with gentle motion This pilot is guiding me, Lured by the love of the genii that move In the depths of the purple sea ; Over the rills, and the crags, and the hills, Over the lakes and the plains, Wherever he dream, under mountain or stream, The Spirit he loves remains ; And I all the while bask in heaven's blue smile, Whilst he is dissolving in rains.
Page 97 - She was a Phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight; A lovely Apparition sent To be a moment's ornament; Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair; Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair; But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful Dawn; A dancing Shape, an Image gay, To haunt, to startle, and waylay.
Page 311 - It must be so ; Plato, thou reasonest well; Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire, This longing after immortality? Or whence this secret dread and inward horror Of falling into nought? Why shrinks the soul Back on herself, and startles at destruction? 'Tis the Divinity that stirs within us ; 'Tis heaven itself that points out an hereafter, And intimates eternity to man.
Page 234 - I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, From the seas and the streams; I bear light shade for the leaves when laid In their noonday dreams. From my wings are shaken the dews that waken The sweet buds every one, When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, As she dances about the sun.
Page 51 - A stranger yet to pain ! I feel the gales that from ye blow A momentary bliss bestow, As waving fresh their gladsome wing My weary soul they seem to soothe, And, redolent of joy and youth, To breathe a second spring.
Page 76 - Ye winds, that have made me your sport Convey to this desolate shore Some cordial, endearing report Of a land I shall visit no more: My friends, do they now and then send A wish or a thought after me? Oh, tell me I yet have a friend, Though a friend I am never to see.
Page 97 - A countenance in which did meet Sweet records, promises as sweet ; A creature not too bright or good For human nature's daily food : For transient sorrows, simple wiles, Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.
Page 313 - Her buskins gemmed with morning dew, Blew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket rung, The hunter's call to Faun and Dryad known ! The oak-crowned Sisters and their chaste-eyed Queen Satyrs and Sylvan Boys were seen Peeping from forth their alleys green : Brown Exercise rejoiced to hear ; And Sport leaped up, and seized his beechen spear.
Page 124 - I played a soft and doleful air, I sang an old and moving story — An old rude song, that suited well That ruin wild and hoary. She listened with a flitting blush, With downcast eyes and modest grace; For well she knew I could not choose But gaze upon her face.
Page 88 - A simple Child, That lightly draws its breath, And feels its life in every limb, What should it know of death ? I met a little cottage Girl : She was eight years old, she said ; Her hair was thick with many a curl That clustered round her head. She had a rustic, woodland air, And she was wildly clad ; Her eyes were fair, and very fair, — Her beauty made me glad. " Sisters and brothers, little maid, How many may you be 1 " " How many t Seven in all," she said, And wondering looked at me. " And where...