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 71
Stran
... HANDS ALL ROUND- Slops all Round THE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE ... 105 588 59 60 60 " Not a drum was heard , not a funeral note . " The disputed origin of the Poem 105 " Ni le son du tambour ... ni la marche funèbre " Not a sous had he ...
... HANDS ALL ROUND- Slops all Round THE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE ... 105 588 59 60 60 " Not a drum was heard , not a funeral note . " The disputed origin of the Poem 105 " Ni le son du tambour ... ni la marche funèbre " Not a sous had he ...
Stran 1
... hand , the topic selected be one of every day life , it may be made exceedingly amusing if described in high- flown mock heroic diction . If the original errs in sentimental affectation , so much the better for the parodist . Thus many ...
... hand , the topic selected be one of every day life , it may be made exceedingly amusing if described in high- flown mock heroic diction . If the original errs in sentimental affectation , so much the better for the parodist . Thus many ...
Stran 4
... hand or pendant lobe , Oriana ! Would tire the patience out of JOB , Oriana ! I saw the lime - light shadows flinging , Oriana ! I saw black boys , a mattress bringing , Oriana ! I saw thee to forlorn hope clinging , I heard the bells ...
... hand or pendant lobe , Oriana ! Would tire the patience out of JOB , Oriana ! I saw the lime - light shadows flinging , Oriana ! I saw black boys , a mattress bringing , Oriana ! I saw thee to forlorn hope clinging , I heard the bells ...
Stran 7
... hand twirl'd , But one bad Poet's scrawl , and with his word She bored the world . Punch . In 1832 Tennyson published another small volume of poems which contained Enone , The Sisters , The Palace of Art , Lady Clara Vere de Vere , The ...
... hand twirl'd , But one bad Poet's scrawl , and with his word She bored the world . Punch . In 1832 Tennyson published another small volume of poems which contained Enone , The Sisters , The Palace of Art , Lady Clara Vere de Vere , The ...
Stran 9
... hand he pressed , By the meadow where , with quivering lip , his passion he confessed ; And down the hedgerows where we've strayed again and yet again ; But he will not think of me , mother , his broken - hearted Jane ! He said that I ...
... hand he pressed , By the meadow where , with quivering lip , his passion he confessed ; And down the hedgerows where we've strayed again and yet again ; But he will not think of me , mother , his broken - hearted Jane ! He said that I ...
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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.