Parodies of the Works of English & American Authors, Količina 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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Zadetki 1–5 od 38
Stran
... Boys " at the Vaudeville Theatre " The Garden , ” Maud ( Covent Garden ) 1882 180 The Vote of Six Millions ... THE IDYLLS OF THE KING- The Charge of the " Rad " Brigade .. Voyage de Guillaume ( Sept. 1883 ) 13 A Lay of the Law Courts ...
... Boys " at the Vaudeville Theatre " The Garden , ” Maud ( Covent Garden ) 1882 180 The Vote of Six Millions ... THE IDYLLS OF THE KING- The Charge of the " Rad " Brigade .. Voyage de Guillaume ( Sept. 1883 ) 13 A Lay of the Law Courts ...
Stran
... Boy , Awfully Deep ” 52 " Not a hum was heard , not a jubilant note " Not a sigh was heard , not a tear - drop fell " The Burial of the Masher , 1883 ... III III 112 " THOSE THAT OF LATE Had Fleeted FAR AND FAST , " Frefatory Sonnet to ...
... Boy , Awfully Deep ” 52 " Not a hum was heard , not a jubilant note " Not a sigh was heard , not a tear - drop fell " The Burial of the Masher , 1883 ... III III 112 " THOSE THAT OF LATE Had Fleeted FAR AND FAST , " Frefatory Sonnet to ...
Stran 4
... boys , a mattress bringing , Oriana ! I saw thee to forlorn hope clinging , I heard the bells of faërie ringing , Oriana ; And ( out of tune ) a chorus singing , Oriana ! I saw a high - priest sage and hoary , Oriana , " Friend WAGGLES ...
... boys , a mattress bringing , Oriana ! I saw thee to forlorn hope clinging , I heard the bells of faërie ringing , Oriana ; And ( out of tune ) a chorus singing , Oriana ! I saw a high - priest sage and hoary , Oriana , " Friend WAGGLES ...
Stran 10
... Boy to his Mother ) . You must wake and call me early ; call me early , mother dear ; To - morrow will be the saddest time of Ireland's sad new year . Of all this threat'ning year , mother , the blackest , foulest , day , For I'm to be ...
... Boy to his Mother ) . You must wake and call me early ; call me early , mother dear ; To - morrow will be the saddest time of Ireland's sad new year . Of all this threat'ning year , mother , the blackest , foulest , day , For I'm to be ...
Stran 11
... boy again , Did softly warble this : You must must wake and call me early , call me early , mother dear- To - morrow ' ll be the happiest time of all this famous year ; Of all this famous year , mother , the grandest , jolliest day ...
... boy again , Did softly warble this : You must must wake and call me early , call me early , mother dear- To - morrow ' ll be the happiest time of all this famous year ; Of all this famous year , mother , the grandest , jolliest day ...
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Parodies of the Works of English & American Authors, Količina 1 Walter Hamilton Predogled ni na voljo - 1967 |
Pogosti izrazi in povedi
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
Priljubljeni odlomki
Stran 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.
Stran 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...
Stran 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.
Stran 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.
Stran 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.
Stran 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.
Stran 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.
Stran 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...
Stran 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!
Stran 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.