Parodies of the Works of English & American Authors, Том 1Reeves & Turner, 1884 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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Parodies of the Works of English & American Authors, Том 1 Walter Hamilton Попередній перегляд недоступний - 1967 |
Загальні терміни та фрази
A. C. Swinburne Alfred Tennyson Beware bill Boreana break Brigade brow call me early Captain Falcon cold cried curse dance dark dead dear Dray dream dreary drink Dyspepsia eyes face fair feel Filcher Fluffer Funny Folks Galah gone Hail to thee hair hand head hear heard heart hurried imitation Kottabos Lady Clara Laureate's light Locksley Hall London Longfellow look Lord maiden Metcalfe and Son morning mother never night o'er Ozokerit parody Peers play poem Poet Laureate Punch Queen rink round sang shout sigh Sir John Moore Six Hundred sleep smile Song Song of Hiawatha soul stood sweet talk tears tell There's things Thomas Hood thou thought thundered to-morrow Tobacco smoke town turned Twas Vere de Vere verses voice wake walk Wather weary Whilst wondered words
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Сторінка 28 - 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.
Сторінка 165 - 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! O well for the sailor lad, That he sings in his boat on the bay! And the stately ships go on To their haven under the hill; But O for the touch of a...
Сторінка 190 - 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.
Сторінка 105 - Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried. We buried him darkly at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning ; By the struggling moonbeam's misty light And the lantern dimly burning.
Сторінка 21 - Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with might ; Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out of sight.
Сторінка 190 - By the struggling moonbeam's misty light And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest With his martial cloak around him.
Сторінка 171 - 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.
Сторінка 124 - 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...
Сторінка 81 - THE shades of night were falling fast, As through an Alpine village passed A youth, who bore, 'mid snow and ice, A banner with the strange device, Excelsior ! His brow was sad ; his eye beneath, Flashed like a falchion from its sheath, And like a silver clarion rung The accents of that unknown tongue, Excelsior!
Сторінка 90 - He did not feel the driver's whip, Nor the burning heat of day ; For Death had illumined the Land of Sleep, And his lifeless body lay A worn-out fetter, that the soul Had broken and thrown away ! THE GOOD PART, THAT SHALL NOT BE TAKEN AWAY.