Punch, Том 104

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Mark Lemon, Henry Mayhew, Tom Taylor, Shirley Brooks, Francis Cowley Burnand, Owen Seaman
Punch Publications Limited, 1893

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Стр. 126 - My sentence is for open war : of wiles, More unexpert, I boast not : them let those Contrive who need, or when they need, not now : For while they sit contriving, shall the rest, Millions that stand in arms...
Стр. 54 - He set it before him, and while he looked upon it attentively, there came out a very thick smoke, which obliged him to retire two or three paces from it The smoke ascended to the clouds, and extending itself along the sea and upon the shore, formed a great mist, which, we may well imagine, did mightily astonish the fisherman. When the smoKe was all out of the vessel, it re-united itself, and became a solid body, of which there was formed a genie twice as high as the greatest of giants.
Стр. 39 - The edge of the whirl was represented by a broad belt of gleaming spray; but no particle of this slipped into the mouth of the terrific funnel, whose interior, as far as the eye could fathom it, was a smooth, shining, and jet-black wall of water, inclined to the horizon at an angle of some forty-five degrees, speeding dizzily round and round with a swaying and sweltering motion...
Стр. 234 - IN Xanadu did Kubla Khan A stately pleasure-dome decree: Where Alph, the sacred river, ran Through caverns measureless to man Down to a sunless sea. So twice five miles of fertile ground With walls and towers were girdled round : And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills, Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree; And here were forests ancient as the hills, Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
Стр. 261 - Though my perishing ranks should be strewed in their gore, Like ocean-weeds heaped on the surf-beaten shore, Lochiel, untainted by flight or by chains, While the kindling of life in his bosom remains, Shall victor exult, or in death be laid low, With his back to the field, and his feet to the foe ! And leaving in battle no blot on his name, Look proudly to heaven from the death-bed of fame.
Стр. 240 - Sleep, Mr. Speaker: it's surely fair, If you don't in your bed, that you should in your chair: Longer and longer still they grow, Tory and Radical, Aye and No ; Talking by night and talking by day ; Sleep, Mr. Speaker; sleep, sleep while you may.
Стр. 258 - LOCHIEL. False Wizard, avaunt ! I have marshalled my clan, Their swords are a thousand, their bosoms are one ! They are true to the last of their blood and their breath, And like reapers descend to the harvest of death.
Стр. 38 - I perceived that what seamen term the chopping character of the ocean beneath us, was rapidly changing into a current, which set to the eastward. Even while I gazed, this current acquired a monstrous velocity. Each moment added to its speed — • to its headlong impetuosity. In five minutes the whole sea, as far as Vurrgh, was lashed into ungovernable fury ; but it was between Moskoe and the coast that the main uproar held its sway.
Стр. 63 - Her home is on the deep. With thunders from her native oak She quells the floods below — As they roar on the shore, When the stormy winds do blow; When the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow.
Стр. 269 - A lady an explorer? a traveller in skirts? The notion's just a trifle too seraphic: Let them stay and mind the babies, or hem our ragged shirts; But they mustn't, can't, and shan't be geographic.

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