Political Verse (Google eBook)

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George Saintsbury
Percival, 1891 - Political poetry, English - 276 pages
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Page 66 - Here lies Fred, Who was alive, and is dead. Had it been his father, I had much rather. Had it been his brother, Still better than another. Had it been his sister, No one would have missed her. Had it been the whole generation, Still better for the nation. But since 'tis only Fred, Who was alive, and is dead, There's no more to be said.
Page 59 - WHATE'ER thy countrymen have done By law and wit, by sword and gun, In thee is faithfully recited: And all the living world, that view Thy work, give thee the praises due, At once instructed and delighted. Yet for the fame of all these deeds, What beggar in the Invalides, With lameness broke, with blindness smitten, Wish'd ever decently to die, To have been either Mezeray, Or any monarch he has written?
Page 64 - For resistance I could fear none, But with twenty ships had done What thou . brave and happy Vernon, Hast achiev'd with six alone. Then the Bastimentos never Had our foul dishonour seen, Nor the sea the sad receiver Of this gallant train had been.
Page 123 - Bleak blows the blast ; your hat has got a hole in't, So have your breeches ! ' Weary Knife-grinder ! little think the proud ones, Who in their coaches roll along the turnpike-road, what hard work 'tis crying all day
Page 63 - From the Spaniards' late defeat: And his crews, with shouts victorious, Drank success to England's fleet. On a sudden shrilly sounding, Hideous yells and shrieks were heard; Then each heart with fear confounding, A sad troop of ghosts appear'd.
Page 64 - See these mournful spectres, sweeping Ghastly o'er this hated wave, Whose wan cheeks are stain'd with weeping ; These were English captains brave: Mark those numbers pale and horrid, Those were once my sailors bold, Lo ! each hangs his drooping forehead, While his dismal tale is told.
Page 31 - Bartering his venal wit for sums of gold, He cast himself into the saint-like mould ; Groan'd, sigh'd, and pray'd while godliness was gain, The loudest bagpipe of the squeaking train.
Page 237 - Wait a little longer. There's a good time coming, boys, A good time coming : The pen shall supersede the sword, And Right, not Might, shall be the lord In the good time coming.
Page 66 - O'er these waves, for ever mourning, Shall we roam, depriv'd of rest, If, to Britain's shores returning, You neglect my just request : After this proud foe subduing, When your patriot friends you see, Think on vengeance for my ruin, And for England sham'd in me.
Page 149 - Both must be blamed, both pardon'd ; ''twas just so " With Fox and Pitt full forty years ago ; " So Walpole, Pulteney ; factions in all times, " Have had their follies, ministers their crimes." Give me the avow'd, the erect, the manly foe, Bold I can meet perhaps may turn his blow ; But of all plagues, good heaven, thy wrath can send, Save, save, oh ! save me from the Candid Friend...

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