A Satire Anthology

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C. Scribner's sons, 1905 - 369 pagine
 

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Pagina 97 - She saw her brother Peterkin Roll something large and round Which he beside the rivulet In playing there had found; He came to ask what he had found That was so large and smooth and round. Old Kaspar took it from the boy Who stood expectant by: And then the old man shook his head, And with a natural sigh "'Tis some poor fellow's skull," said he, "Who fell in the great victory.
Pagina 20 - My liege, I did deny no prisoners. But I remember, when the fight was done, When I was dry with rage and extreme toil, Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword, Came there a certain lord, neat...
Pagina 28 - WHY so pale and wan, fond lover? Prithee, why so pale? Will, when looking well can't move her, Looking ill prevail? Prithee, why so pale?
Pagina 87 - tis He alone Decidedly can try us; He knows each chord, — its various tone, Each spring, — its various bias: Then at the balance let's be mute; We never can adjust it; What's done we partly may compute, But know not what's resisted.
Pagina 143 - He has no children. All my pretty ones? Did you say all? O hell-kite! All? What, all my pretty chickens and their dam At one fell swoop?
Pagina 171 - Man wants but little here below." Little I ask; my wants are few; I only wish a hut of stone (A very plain brown stone will do, That I may call my own — And close at hand is such a one, In yonder street that fronts the sun. Plain food is quite enough for me; Three courses are as good as ten; — If Nature can subsist on three, Thank Heaven for three. Amen!
Pagina 186 - THE LOST LEADER. JUST for a handful of silver he left us, Just for a riband to stick in his coat — Found the one gift of which fortune bereft us, Lost all the others, she lets us devote; They, with the gold to give, doled him out silver...
Pagina 61 - I said; Tie up the knocker, say I'm sick, I'm dead. The dog-star rages! nay 'tis past a doubt, All Bedlam, or Parnassus, is let out: Fire in each eye, and papers in each hand, They rave, recite, and madden round the land.
Pagina 14 - Who in their greatest cost, Seek nothing but commending. And if they make reply. Then give them all the lie. Tell zeal it lacks devotion, Tell love it is but lust, Tell time it, is but motion, Tell flesh it is but dust; And wish them not reply, For thou must give the lie.
Pagina 27 - Which may gain her name of best; If she be not such to me, What care I how good she be? 'Cause her fortune seems too high, Shall I play the fool, and die? Those that bear a noble mind, Where they want of riches find, Think what, with them they would do That without them dare to woo; And unless that mind I see, What care I how great she be?

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