The Oxford Thackeray: With Illustrations, Թողարկում 76,Հատոր 7

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H. Frowde, Oxford University Press, 1829

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Էջ 76 - Bacchus' blessings are a treasure, Drinking is the soldier's pleasure: Rich the treasure, Sweet the pleasure, Sweet is pleasure after pain. Soothed with the sound, the king grew vain; Fought all his battles o'er again, And thrice he routed all his foes, and thrice he slew the slain!
Էջ 52 - I'd say your woes were not less keen, Your hopes more vain than those of men, Your pangs or pleasures of fifteen At forty-five played o'er again. I'd say we suffer and we strive, Not less nor more as men than boys, With grizzled beards at forty-five As erst at twelve in corduroys ; And if, in time of sacred youth, We learned at home to love and pray, Pray Heaven that early love and truth May never wholly pass away.
Էջ 54 - This Bouillabaisse a noble dish is — A sort of soup or broth, or brew, Or hotchpotch of all sorts of fishes, That Greenwich never could outdo ; Green herbs, red peppers, mussels, saffron, Soles, onions, garlic, roach, and dace : All these you eat at TERRE'S tavern, In that one dish of Bouillabaisse.
Էջ 254 - Can such things be, And overcome us like a summer cloud Without our special wonder...
Էջ 50 - ALTHOUGH I enter not, Yet round about the spot Ofttimes I hover ! And near the sacred gate With longing eyes I wait, Expectant of her. The Minster bell tolls out Above the city's rout, And noise and humming : They've...
Էջ 41 - HO, pretty page, with the dimpled chin That never has known the barber's shear, All your wish is woman to win : This is the way that boys begin — Wait till you come to Forty Year.
Էջ 43 - Happy we'll be ! Drink, every one; Pile up the coals, Fill the red bowls, Round the old tree ! Drain we the cup. — Friend, art afraid ? Spirits are laid In the Red Sea. Mantle it up ; Empty it yet; Let us forget, Round the old tree. Sorrows, begone ! Life and its ills, Duns and their bills, Bid we to flee. Come with the dawn, Blue-devil sprite, Leave us to-night, Round the old tree. THE YANKEE VOLUNTEERS. " A surgeon of the United States...
Էջ 36 - Quand vous serez bien vieille, au soir a la chandelle, Assise aupres du feu, devidant et filant, Direz chantant mes vers, en vous esmerveillant; "Ronsard me celebroit du temps que j'estois belle.
Էջ 53 - THE BALLAD OF BOUILLABAISSE. A STREET there is in Paris famous, For which no rhyme our language yields, Rue Neuve des Petits Champs its name is — The New Street of the Little Fields. And here's an inn, not rich and splendid, But still in comfortable case ; The which in youth I oft attended, To eat a bowl of Bouillabaisse.
Էջ 151 - This Gineral great then tuck his sate, With all the other ginerals, (Bedad, his troat, his belt, his coat, All bleezed with precious minerals;) And as he there, with princely air, Recloinin on his cushion was, All round about his royal chair, The squeezin and the pushin was.

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