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Seite 69 - 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 his passion boiled and bubbled, Till he blew his silly brains out, Aud no more was by it troubled. Charlotte, having seen his body Borne before her on a shutter. Like a well-conducted person, Went...
Seite 230 - 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.
Seite 127 - 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!
Seite 34 - How he beat the storm to laughter; For well he knew his vessel With that vain wind could wrestle; And when a wreck we thought her And doomed ourselves to slaughter, How gaily he fought her, And through the hubbub brought her, And, as the tempest caught her, Cried, "GEORGE! SOME BRANDY-AND-WATER!
Seite 45 - 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.
Seite 68 - Wait till you come to Forty Year. Forty times over let Michaelmas pass, Grizzling hair the brain doth clear — Then you know a boy is an ass, Then you know the worth of a lass, Once you have come to Forty Year.
Seite 48 - ... but not alone. A fair young form was nestled near me, A dear dear face looked fondly up, And sweetly spoke and smiled to cheer me — There's no one now to share my cup. I drink it as the Fates ordain it. Come, fill it, and have done with rhymes : Fill up the lonely glass, and drain it In memory of dear old times. Welcome the wine, whate'er the seal is ; And sit you down and say your grace "With thankful heart, whate'er the meal is. — Here comes the smoking Bouillabaisse ! THE MAHOGANY TREE.
Seite 232 - Go, lose or conquer as you can ; But if you fail, or if you rise, Be each, pray God, a gentleman. A gentleman, or old or young ! (Bear kindly with my humble lays) ; The sacred chorus first was sung Upon the first of Christmas days : The shepherds heard it overhead — The joyful angels raised it then : Glory to 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....
Seite 47 - 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 BALLAD OF BOUILLABAISSE.
Seite 232 - So each shall mourn, in life's advance, Dear hopes, dear friends, untimely killed ; Shall grieve for many a forfeit chance, And longing passion unfulfilled. Amen ! whatever fate be sent, Pray God the heart may kindly glow, Although the head with cares be bent, And 'whitened with the winter snow.