Poetical VagariesMunroe & Francis, 1812 - 108 páginas |
Otras ediciones - Ver todas
Términos y frases comunes
144 In short 2d Edition 4th Edit Account adapted Anatomy ancient Anecdotes ANN RADCLIFFE ANNA MARIA PORTER Anti Jac Author Boards BOOK bound Bride Brit Canto CASTLE BLARNEYGIG Chaplain CHARLES BELL coloured containing corrected cried Crit demy Diseases elegant Elephant embellished Engravings eyes Fitz Gallyhogmagawl foolscap 8vo French Greek Greek language HENRY TRESHAM History HORNSEY HURST illustrated improved Introduction Ireland Irish JOANNA BAILLIE JOHN HORNSEY JOHN PINKERTON Judy Knight Lady language large vol late lest Tis fit LETTERS LINDLEY MURRAY London look'd Lord Love Manners Maps March'd mark'd ne'er Numbers o'er O'Shaughnashane ORME Ozias Plates Poem Polyglot post 8vo Price 17 Price 21 Price 9s Pringle PRINTED FOR LONGMAN Public readers REES ROBERT SOUTHEY Schools seem'd Shirt Sir Tooley whagg Strand Surgeons Tale Thee Third Edition THOMAS thou tion TITUS POMPONIUS ATTICUS Translated Twas Vassal Volume WILLIAM William Elford Leach WOODFAL Villiers-Street Young Persons
Pasajes populares
Página 18 - Thy pinions, next, (which, while they wave, Fan all our birth-days to the grave) I think, ere it was prudent, Balloon d me, from the schools to town, Where I was parachuted down, A dapper Temple student.
Página 113 - ADAM and Eve were, at the world's beginning, Ashamed of nothing till they took to sinning : But after Adam's slip — the first was Eve's — With sorrow big They sought the fig, To cool their blushes with its banging leaves. Whereby we find That when all things were recent (So paradoxical is human kind !) Till folks grew naughty they were barely decent. Thus dress may date its origin From sin ; Which proves beyond the shadow of dispute, How many owe their livelihoods to fruit •. For fruit caused...
Página 43 - The Pig, at eve, was lank, and faint, Where Patrick is the Patron Saint, And with his peasant Lord, unfed, Went grunting to their common bed : But when black Night her sables threw Athwart the slough of Ballyloo, The deep-mouth'd thunder's angry roar Rebellow' d on the Ulster shore, And hailstones pelted, mighty big, The towers of Castle Blarneygig.
Página 20 - For thou hast made me gaily tough, Inured me to each day that's rough, In hopes of calm to-morrow ; — And when, old Mower of us all, Beneath thy sweeping scythe I fall, Some FEW dear friends will sorrow.
Página 26 - That is, (if I may make so bold) For Children who are young, — and Children who are old. A pasteboard Elephant, of monstrous size, Was form'd to bless a Learned Nation's eyes, And charm the sage Theatrical resorters ; And, as two men were necessary in it, It was decreed, in an unlucky minute, That Mr. Daw should fill the hinder quarters. The HINDER Quarters!!! — here was degradation ! Gods ! mighty Daw ! — what was thy indignation ! He swore a tragick oath ; — " by Her who bore him !" (Meaning...
Página 16 - Gaffer! thou com'st on fast enough ; Wing'd foe to feather'd Cupid ! But tell me, Sand-man! ere thy grains Have multiplied upon my brains, So thick to make me stupid ; — Tell me, Death's journeyman! — but no ; Hear thou my speech ; — I will not grow...
Página 17 - Thou gav'st small-pox (the dragon now That Jenner combats on a cow,) And then some seeds of knowledge, — Grains of the Grammar, which the flails Of pedants thresh upon our tails, To fit us for a college. And when at Christ-Church, 'twas thy sport To rack my brains with sloe-juice port, And lectures out of number!
Página 61 - Drink, Paddies, drink to the Lady so shining! While flowret shall open, and bog-trotter dig, So long may the sweet Rose of Beauty be twining Around the Potato of proud Blarneygig ! While the plant vegetates, While Whiskey recreates, Wash down the root, from the horns that o'erflow ; Shake your shillalahs, boys ! Screeching drunk, scream your joys! Whack for O'Shaughnashane ! — Tooleywhagg, ho ! XVII. Time rolls his course...
Página 82 - DON'T, now, be after being coy ; Sit still upon my lap, dear joy ! And let us at our breakfast, toy, For thou art Wife to me, Judy ! And I am bound, by wedlock's chain, Thy humble sarvant to remain, Sir Tooleywhagg O'Shaughnashane, The Husband unto thee, Judy ! The skins of Wolves, — by me they bled.
Página 39 - Lake," accuse the present Author of -plagiary. The wild Irish and wild Caledonians bore a great resemblance to each other in very many particulars ; and two poets, who have any " method in their madness," may naturally fall into similar strains of wildness when handling subjects equally wild and remote. 'Tis a wild world, my masters ! The Author of this work has merely adopted the style which a northern genius has of late rendered the fashion and the rage. He has attempted in this instance to become...