The flowers of literature, or, Encyclopædia of anecdote, a coll. by W. Oxberry, Band 2William Oxberry 1821 |
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Ergebnisse 1-5 von 85
Seite 5
... called the Wolf Club , and consisted of an indefinite number of members : Kean as the grand master , opened their sessions with the following speech , in which nothing is said well , because nothing is said naturally , but which no ...
... called the Wolf Club , and consisted of an indefinite number of members : Kean as the grand master , opened their sessions with the following speech , in which nothing is said well , because nothing is said naturally , but which no ...
Seite 10
... called me by my name . I started up , and approaching her , asked her if she was well . She appeared to be unconscious of what had happened , and , astonished at the sight of the chains , asked who had bound her . Rejoiced to see her ...
... called me by my name . I started up , and approaching her , asked her if she was well . She appeared to be unconscious of what had happened , and , astonished at the sight of the chains , asked who had bound her . Rejoiced to see her ...
Seite 15
... called the Battery . This is so denominated , I am told , from having once been defended with formidable wooden bulwarks , which in the course of a hard winter were thriftily pulled to pieces , by an economic corporation , to be ...
... called the Battery . This is so denominated , I am told , from having once been defended with formidable wooden bulwarks , which in the course of a hard winter were thriftily pulled to pieces , by an economic corporation , to be ...
Seite 18
... at twelve . The kiaya , or colonel , as he * I think this mode of remuneration may , with propriety , be termed the " cheap defence of nations . " is called , that is , commander of one hundred 18 FLOWERS OF LITERATURE ;
... at twelve . The kiaya , or colonel , as he * I think this mode of remuneration may , with propriety , be termed the " cheap defence of nations . " is called , that is , commander of one hundred 18 FLOWERS OF LITERATURE ;
Seite 19
William Oxberry. is called , that is , commander of one hundred and twenty men , orders his regiment , or tribe , to collect , one mile , at least , from the place of parade , at eleven . Each captain , ( or fag - rag , as we term them ...
William Oxberry. is called , that is , commander of one hundred and twenty men , orders his regiment , or tribe , to collect , one mile , at least , from the place of parade , at eleven . Each captain , ( or fag - rag , as we term them ...
Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
afterwards Ambassador answer appearance army Asem attended bashaw beautiful Bergancio better betwixt called Calypso castle ceremony Charmides CLITOPHON command cou'd court daughter death divers door Duke Duke of Montmorency Earl enemy exclaimed eyes father favour flowers France French Galatea gave gentleman George Cooke give GRIHASTHA hand happy head heard heart Helen Walker honour horse howbeit Kean KELI King knew lady Leucippe living look Lord manner marriage married master Melite Menelaus Monsieur nation nature never night observed occasion person poor present Prince Pygmalion Queen replied Resumed returned Richard Griffiths Scarnafigi sent servant shew shou'd Sir John Ayres slang-whangers smile soon Sosthenes soul spirit stranger sword talk tell thee Thersander thing Thomas Lucy thou thought told took TRIPOLI turned voice whereupon wife witness woman words wou'd young
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 163 - Dis's waggon! daffodils, That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty; violets, dim, But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes, Or Cytherea's breath ; pale primroses, That die unmarried, ere they can behold Bright Phoebus in his strength, a malady Most incident to maids; bold oxlips, and The crown-imperial; lilies of all kinds, The flower-de-luce being one ! O, these I lack, To make you garlands of; and, my sweet friend, To strew him o'er and o'er.
Seite 163 - O Proserpina ! For the flowers now that frighted thou let'st fall From Dis's waggon ! daffodils, That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty ; violets dim, But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes Or Cytherea's breath...
Seite 306 - It ceased ; yet still the sails made on A pleasant noise till noon, — A noise like of a hidden brook In the leafy month of June, That to the sleeping woods all night Singeth a quiet tune.
Seite 240 - Get up, get up for shame ! the blooming morn Upon her wings presents the god unshorn. See how Aurora throws her fair Fresh-quilted colours through the air: Get up, sweet slug-a-bed, and see The dew bespangling herb and tree.
Seite 241 - There on beds of violets blue, And fresh-blown roses wash'd in dew, Fill'd her with thee a daughter fair, So buxom, blithe, and debonair.
Seite 375 - The poetry of earth is never dead: When all the birds are faint with the hot Sun, And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead. That is the grasshopper's : he takes the lead In summer luxury — he has never done With his delights, for when tired out with fun, He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed.
Seite 170 - 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. Few and short were the prayers we said, And -we spoke not a word of sorrow; But we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead, And we bitterly thought of the morrow.
Seite 160 - Nature never did betray The heart that loved her ; 'tis her privilege, Through all the years of this our life, to lead From joy to joy : for she can so inform The mind that is within us, so impress With quietness and beauty, and so feed With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues, Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men, Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all The dreary intercourse of daily life, Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold...
Seite 171 - Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him ; But little hell reck if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him...
Seite 238 - The same whom in my school-boy days I listened to; that Cry Which made me look a thousand ways In bush, and tree, and sky. To seek thee did I often rove Through woods and on the green; And thou wert still a hope, a love; Still longed for, never seen. And I can listen to thee yet; Can lie upon the plain And listen, till I do beget That golden time again.