The Ballad of Beau Brocade: And Other Poems of the XVIIIth CenturyKegan Paul, Trench, Trübner & Company, 1892 - 89 psl. |
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The Ballad of Beau Brocade– And Other Poems of the XVIIIth Century Austin Dobson Visos knygos peržiūra - 1892 |
The Ballad of Beau Brocade and Other Poems of the 18th Century Austin Dobson Visos knygos peržiūra - 1893 |
The Ballad of Beau Brocade– And Other Poems of the XVIIIth Century Austin Dobson Visos knygos peržiūra - 1893 |
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Afhomson almond tree AUSTIN DOBSON Ballad of Beau Bard Beau Brocade best strong waters brandish the poles broken Stile Chapter of Froissart Cissy cuckoo's call Dead Letter dear little Molly DOLLY the Chambermaid dry bon-mots Ensign of BRAGG's Exciseman's Folly fresh contours Gentleman Gentleman's Magazine Gentlewoman GEORGE the Guard grace gray mare Greek Anthology Heading to poem Hugh Thomson James's John Gay JOHN the Host jovial riot King's evidence l'argent tout laced ladies of St last was ta'en leaf-stained Chapter Les Précieuses Ridicules LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS little Molly Trefusis Mascarille Milkmaid's Miss Molly Trefusis Muse n't you shoot NOTE Oak and Crown old magazine old sake's sake Old School old Sedan chair Out-spoke DOLLY Phyllida PORTO-BELLO at last question of fare rose Saddling the gray Sam's two Eyes scarce Stand and Deliver Straining and creaking sunny summer doze Sweetlip swelled swelled Its jovial terrible clangour Twas a knight twixt TYBURN
Populiarios ištraukos
55 psl. - THE ladies of St. James's Go swinging to the play; Their footmen run before them, With a "Stand by! Clear the way!" But Phyllida, my Phyllida! She takes her buckled shoon, When we go out a-courting Beneath the harvest moon. The ladies of St. James's Wear satin on their backs; They sit all night at Ombre, With candles all of wax: But Phyllida, my Phyllida! She dons her russet gown, And runs to gather May dew Before the world is down.
25 psl. - An elder fashion, — • A strangeness, which, to us who shine In shapely hats, — whose coats combine All harmonies of hue and line, — Inspires compassion. He lived so long ago, you see! Men were untravelled then, but we, Like Ariel, post o'er land and sea With careless parting; He found it quite enough for him To smoke his pipe in "garden trim," And watch, about the fish tank's brim, The swallows darting.
56 psl. - ... Are clear as after rain-drops The music of the birds. The ladies of St. James's ! They have their fits and freaks ; They smile on you — for seconds, They frown on you — for weeks : But Phyllida, my Phyllida ! Come either storm or shine, From Shrove-tide unto Shrove-tide, Is always true — and mine. My Phyllida ! my Phyllida ! I care not though they heap The hearts of all St. James's, And give me all to keep ; I care not whose the beauties Of all the world may be, For Phyllida— for Phyllida...
48 psl. - A place to love in, — live, — for aye, If we too, like Tithonus, Could find some God to stretch the gray, Scant life the Fates have thrown us ; " But now by steam we run our race, With buttoned heart and pocket ; Our Love 'sa gilded, surplus grace, — Just like an empty locket ! '"The time is out of joint. ' Who will, May strive to make it better ; For me, this warm old window-sill, And this old dusty letter.
15 psl. - DOLLY the Chambermaid, (Tremulous now, and sore afraid,) " Stand and Deliver, O ' BEAU BROCADE ' ! " — Firing then, out of sheer alarm, Hit the BEAU in the bridle-arm. Button the first went none knows where, But it carried away his solitaire; Button the second a circuit made, Glanced in under the shoulder-blade; — Down from the saddle fell " BEAU BROCADE " ! Down from the saddle and never stirred ! — DOLLY grew white as a Windsor curd.
55 psl. - The ladies of St. James's! They're painted to the eyes; Their white it stays for ever, Their red it never dies: But Phyllida, my Phyllida!
12 psl. - Pastoral Letter"; Looked to the flint, and hung the whole, Ready to use, at her pocket-hole. Thus equipped and accoutred, Dolly Clattered away to " Exciseman's Folly " ; — Such was the name of a ruined abode, Just on the edge of the London road. Thence she thought she might safely try, As soon as she saw it, to warn the
50 psl. - My Dear, I don't think that I thought of much Before we knew each other, I and you ; And now, why, John, your least, least Finger-touch, Gives me enough to think a Summer through. See, for I send you Something ! There, 'tis gone ! Look in this corner, — mind you find it, John...
47 psl. - Grew in the same grim shapes; and still The lipless dolphin spurted; Still in his wonted state abode The broken-nosed Apollo; And still the cypress-arbour showed The same umbrageous hollow. Only, — as fresh young Beauty gleams From coffee-coloured laces, — So peeped from its old-fashioned dreams The fresher modern traces; For idle mallet, hoop, and ball Upon the lawn were lying; A magazine, a tumbled shawl, Round which the swifts were flying; And, tossed beside the Guelder rose, A heap of rainbow...