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asked Ballad battle beat better Bill Book boys brave brought Buckley Square called Canute caused church comes Cossacks Court cried dear dinner drum Duke English eyes face fair faithful father fight follow France French gate gave gentle give gone guard hall hand Hayes head hear heard heart Heaven hour hundred Jeames John kind King lady land leave Lille lived look Lord Louis March Mary Master Miscellanies Miss morning never night noble once pass peace poem poor pray present pretty Prince Punch rose round Royal Saint says sing smile Street sure sweet tell thee There's things thou thought thousand took town turn Twas wait wish write young
76 ページ - 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!
52 ページ - 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.
54 ページ - 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.
254 ページ - Can such things be, And overcome us like a summer cloud Without our special wonder...
50 ページ - 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...
41 ページ - 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.
43 ページ - 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...
36 ページ - 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.
53 ページ - 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.
151 ページ - 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.