The Poems of John Byrom, Volume 29Chetham society, 1894 |
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Popular passages
Page 139 - Why, yes; the thing is fact, Though, in regard to number, not exact; It was not two black crows — 'twas only one; The truth 'of that you may depend upon; The gentleman himself told me the case." "Where may I find him?" "Why, in such a place." Away goes he, and, having found him out, " Sir, be so good as to resolve a doubt.
Page 144 - em would do. The operator, much surprised to find So odd a case, thought, sure the man is blind! " What sort of eyes can you have got ? " said he. " Why, very good ones, friend, as you may see.
Page 144 - So, at first, he chose To place a youngish pair upon his nose ; And book produced, to see how they would fit : Asked how he liked 'em ? — " Like 'em — not a bit." — " Then sir, I fancy, if you please to try, These in my hand will better suit your eye" — " No, but they don't" — " Well, come, sir, if you please.
Page xxiii - Pleasure to look at, twas Music to hear. But now she is absent, I walk by its Side, And still, as it murmurs, do nothing but chide: 'Must you be so cheerful, while I go in pain? Peace there with your bubbling, and hear me complain.
Page xxiv - But now she is absent, though still they .sing on, The woods are but lonely, the melody's gone : Her voice in the concert, as now I have found, Gave ev'ry thing else its agreeable sound.
Page xxv - Does aught of its Sweetness the Blossom beguile? That Meadow, those Daisies, why do they not smile? Ah, Rivals ! I see what it was that you drest And made your selves fine for, — a Place in her Breast : You put on your Colours to pleasure her Eye, To be pluckt by her Hand, on her Bosom to die.
Page 137 - till the tale be told, We '11 give a hint, for once, how to apply The meaning first — and hang the tale thereby.— People, full oft, are put into a pother, For want of understanding one another: And strange, amusing stories creep about, That come to nothing, if you trace them out; Lies of the day...
Page xxii - But now she is gone, and has left me behind, What a marvellous Change on a sudden I find ! When Things were as fine as could possibly be, I thought 'twas the Spring ; but alas ! it was she.
Page 105 - A man the monarch of his mind. Now taste and try this temper, sirs, Mood it and brood it in your breast ; Or, if ye ween for worldly stirs That man does right to mar his rest, Let me be deft and debonair, I am content, I do not care ! ON THE ORIGIN OF EVIL.
Page xxxii - To these huts men of fashion, wearied with the din and smoke of London, sometimes came in the summer to breathe fresh air, and to catch a glimpse of rural life. During the season a kind of fair was daily held near the fountain. The wives and daughters of the Kentish farmers came from the neighbouring villages with cream, cherries, wheatears, and quails. To chaffer with them, to flirt with them, to praise their straw hats and tight heels, was a refreshing pastime to voluptuaries sick of the airs of...