The Old Commodore, Том 1

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Baudry's European Library, 1837 - 308 страница

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Страница 97 - Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness ! This is the state of man ; to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him : The third day comes a frost, a killing frost ; And,— when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a ripening, — nips his root, And then he falls, as I do.
Страница 31 - The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of despised love, the law's delay, The insolence of office and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin?
Страница 282 - At every trifle scorn to take offence ; That always shows great pride or little sense : Those heads, as stomachs, are not sure the best Which nauseate all, and nothing can digest. Yet let not each gay turn thy rapture move...
Страница 267 - LOve in her Sunny Eyes does basking play ; Love walks the pleasant Mazes of her Hair ; Love does on both her Lips for ever stray ; And sows and reaps a thousand kisses there.
Страница 173 - Very good song, and very well sung, Jolly companions every one ; We all are here for mirth and glee, We all are here for jollity. Very good song, and very well sung, Jolly companions every one ; Put your hats on, and keep your heads warm, A little more liquor will do us no harm.
Страница 103 - The flying rumours gather'd as they roll'd, Scarce any tale was sooner heard than told ; And all who told it added something new, ; And all who heard it made enlargements too , In every ear it spread, on every tongue it grew.
Страница 125 - That he ll never more be fit for sea. Here am I in distress, like a ship water-logg'd, Not a tow-rope at hand, or an oar ; I am left by my crew, and may I be flogg'd But the doctor's a son of aw — e.
Страница 116 - Cocking up a squinting glass, Thus run down the old Commodore : That's the old Commodore, The rum old Commodore, The gouty old Commodore. — He ! Why the bullets and the gout Have so knock'd his hull about, That he'll never more be fit for sea.
Страница 264 - mong the blest thou dost for ever shine, And wheresoe'er thou cast thy view Upon that white and radiant crew, See'st not a soul cloth'd with more light than thine. And if the glorious saints cease not to know Their wretched friends who fight with life below ; Thy flame to me does still the same abide, Only more pure and rarified. There whilst immortal hymns thou dost rehearse, Thou dost with holy pity see Our dull and earthly poesy, Where grief and misery can be joined with verse.
Страница 26 - And he was the only child of his mother, AND SHE WAS A WIDOW?

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