Parodies of the Works of English & American Authors, Volumen 3Reeves & 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. |
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... face " The Dirdum . A parody of C. Kingsley's Scotch poem on an Oubit , 1862 : 0 : Thomas Moore . ' TIS THE LAST ROSE OF SUMMER " " 125 126 ... 126 ... 127 128 128 128 ... 129 ... ... ' Tis the first rose of Summer , R. Gilfillan ...
... face " The Dirdum . A parody of C. Kingsley's Scotch poem on an Oubit , 1862 : 0 : Thomas Moore . ' TIS THE LAST ROSE OF SUMMER " " 125 126 ... 126 ... 127 128 128 128 ... 129 ... ... ' Tis the first rose of Summer , R. Gilfillan ...
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... face : The morn was cold , he views with keen desire The rusty grate unconscious of a fire : With beer and milk arrears , the frieze was scor'd , And five cracked tea - cups dress'd the chimney - board ; A night - cap deck'd his brows ...
... face : The morn was cold , he views with keen desire The rusty grate unconscious of a fire : With beer and milk arrears , the frieze was scor'd , And five cracked tea - cups dress'd the chimney - board ; A night - cap deck'd his brows ...
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... face , While secret riddles tittered round the place , The younger son's shy sidelong looks of love , The chaperons who would those looks reprove , These were thy charms , sweet village , sports like these With sweet succession taught e ...
... face , While secret riddles tittered round the place , The younger son's shy sidelong looks of love , The chaperons who would those looks reprove , These were thy charms , sweet village , sports like these With sweet succession taught e ...
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... face is faire , Thy wits are weake , thy thoughts are greene ; Time hath not given thee leave as yet For to commit so great a sinne ! ” Yes , herdsman , yes , soe wou'dst thou say , If thou knewest so much as I ; My wits , and thoughtes ...
... face is faire , Thy wits are weake , thy thoughts are greene ; Time hath not given thee leave as yet For to commit so great a sinne ! ” Yes , herdsman , yes , soe wou'dst thou say , If thou knewest so much as I ; My wits , and thoughtes ...
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... face and mien , That were so faire to view , His flaxen locks that sweetly curl'd , And eyne of lovely blue . ' O , lady he is dead and gone ! Lady , he's dead and gone ! And at his head a green grass turfe , And at his heels a stone ...
... face and mien , That were so faire to view , His flaxen locks that sweetly curl'd , And eyne of lovely blue . ' O , lady he is dead and gone ! Lady , he's dead and gone ! And at his head a green grass turfe , And at his heels a stone ...
Otras ediciones - Ver todo
Parodies of the Works of English & American Authors, Volumen 3 Walter Hamilton Vista de fragmentos - 1967 |
Parodies of the Works of English & American Authors, Volumen 3 Walter Hamilton No hay ninguna vista previa disponible - 1967 |
Términos y frases comunes
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
Pasajes populares
Página 201 - 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.
Página 213 - 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...
Página 210 - 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...
Página 54 - 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.
Página 213 - 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...
Página 3 - 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.
Página 29 - 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.
Página 223 - 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.
Página 30 - 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...
Página 89 - 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 !