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Page 36 - Islington there was a man, Of whom the world might say, That still a godly race he ran, Whene'er he went to pray. A kind and gentle heart he had, To comfort friends and foes; The naked every day he clad, When he put on his clothes. And in that town a dog was found, As many dogs there be, Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound, And curs of low degree.
Page 616 - Many a jest told of the keys betraying This night, and locks pick'd, yet we're not a-Maying. Come, let us go while we are in our prime; And take the harmless folly of the time. We shall grow old apace, and die Before we know our liberty. Our life is short, and our days run As fast away as does the sun...
Page 615 - Besides, the childhood of the day has kept, Against you come, some orient pearls unwept; Come and receive them while the light Hangs on the dew-locks of the night: And Titan on the eastern hill Retires himself, or else stands still Till you come forth. Wash, dress, be brief in praying: Few beads are best when once we go a-Maying.
Page 84 - Might one wish bring them, would I wish them here ? I would not trust my heart — the dear delight Seems so to be desired, perhaps I might...
Page 616 - So when or you or I are made A fable, song, or fleeting shade, All love, all liking, all delight Lies drowned with us in endless night. Then while time serves, and we are but decaying, Come, my Corinna, come, let's go a-Maying.
Page 616 - And chose their priest, ere we can cast off sloth : Many a green gown has been given ; Many a kiss, both odd and even ; Many a glance too has been sent From out the eye, love's firmament ; Many a jest told of the keys betraying This night, and locks pick'd; yet we're not a Maying!
Page 384 - It is only the public situation which this gentleman holds which entitles me or induces me to say so much about him. He is a fly in amber, nobody cares about the fly : the only question is, How the Devil did it get there?
Page 616 - And sin no more, as we have done by staying : But, my Corinna, come, let's go a-maying. " There's not a budding boy or girl this day, But is got up, and gone to bring in may.
Page 615 - Nay! not so much as out of bed; When all the birds have matins said, And sung their thankful hymns; 'tis sin, Nay, profanation to keep in, When as a thousand virgins on this day Spring, sooner than the lark, to fetch in May.
Page 378 - From the beginning of the century to the death of Lord Liverpool was an awful period for those who had the misfortune to entertain liberal opinions, and who were too honest to sell them for the ermine of the judge or the lawn of the prelate ; a long and hopeless career in your profession,— the chuckling grin of noodles,— the sarcastic leer of the genuine political rogue...