What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
Other editions - View all
allagiance Bareacres beat Bishop black Templars bless blow blushing bold bonny Bouillabaisse brave Brentford Buckley Square cane-bottom'd chair cheek cold Coort cried crown cursed dear deck Doctor door-key drink drum drumm'd Duke e'er Esquire eyes fair famed Pimlico fountain galliant gate gent gentle gold sticks gone Grace green alder grey Guilford Street hair hath heart Heaven holy honest horgin-boys Hurrah Jack Keeper kind King Canute lady Lansdowne Crescent laugh Lille look look'd Lord Mary Moses ne'er never night noble Nora O'Brine o'er oiron pale river Pavilion pleasant Pleaseman poor pooty Pope pore pound pray Prince Queen Roney round Saint Saint Willibald Saladin Shannon shore shuited silver jews sing smiling sure sweet Pimlico sword thee There's thim thou remember Jeames thought Twas Vainly Vich vith wind wine wondrous young
Page 274 - THE play is done ; the curtain drops, Slow falling, to the prompter's bell : A moment yet the actor stops, And looks around, to say farewell. It is an irksome word and task ; And when he's laughed and said his say, He shows, as he removes the mask, A face that's anything but gay.
Page 93 - WERTHER had a love for Charlotte Such as words could never utter ; Would you know how first he met her ? She was cutting bread and butter. Charlotte was a married lady, And a moral man was Werther, And, for all the wealth of Indies, Would do nothing for to hurt her. So he sighed and pined and ogled, And Ms passion boiled and bubbled, Till he blew his silly brains out, And no more was by it troubled.
Page 70 - CHRISTMAS is here ; Winds whistle shrill, Icy and chill, Little care we ; Little we fear Weather without, Sheltered about The Mahogany Tree. Once on the boughs Birds of rare plume Sang, in its bloom ; Night-birds are we ; Here we carouse, Singing, like them, Perched round the stem Of the jolly old tree.
Page 278 - Heaven on high, it said, And peace on earth to gentle men. My song, save this, is little worth ; I lay the weary pen aside, And wish you health, and love, and mirth, As fits the solemn Christmas-tide. As fits the holy Christmas birth, Be this, good friends, our carol still — Be peace on earth, be peace on earth, To men of gentle will.
Page 66 - 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.
Page 72 - 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...
Page 81 - Tis a murderous knife to toast muffins upon. Long, long, through the hours, and the night and the chimes, Here we talk of old books, and old friends, and old times ; As we sit in a fog made of rich Latakie, This chamber is pleasant to you, friend, and me.
Page 68 - I'd scarce a beard upon my face, And now a grizzled, grim old fogy, I sit and wait for Bouillabaisse. Where are you, old companions trusty Of early days here met to dine? Come, waiter ! quick, a flagon crusty — I'll pledge them in the good old wine. The kind old voices and old faces My memory can quick retrace ; Around the board they take their places, And share the wine and Bouillabaisse. There's...
Page 48 - And when, its force expended, The harmless storm was ended, And, as the sunrise splendid Came blushing o'er the sea; I thought, as day was breaking, My little girls were waking, And smiling, and making A prayer at home for me.
Page 68 - It is the lot of saint and sinner, So honest TERRE'S run his race." "What will Monsieur require for dinner ? " "Say, do you still cook Bouillabaisse ? " " Oh, oui, Monsieur," 's the waiter's answer; " Quel vin Monsieur desire-t-il ? " "Tell me a good one."— "That I * can, Sir : The Chambertin with yellow seal.