#EnglishWriters
Aux gens atrabilaires Pour exemple donne, En un temps de miseres Roger-Bontemps est ne. Vivre obscur a sa guise,
And thou wert once a maiden fair, A blushing virgin warm and young: With myrtles wreathed in golden ha… And glossy brow that knew no care— Upon a bridegroom’s arm you hung.
Come all ye Christian people, and… It is all about a doctor was trave… By the Heastern Counties’ Railwa… From Ixworth town in Suffolk, vic… A travelling from Bury this Docto…
O will ye choose to hear the news, Bedad I cannot pass it o’er: I’ll tell you all about the Ball To the Naypaulase Ambassador. Begor! this fete all balls does ba…
Tink-a-tink, tink-a-tink, By the light of the star, On the blue river’s brink, I heard a guitar. I heard a guitar,
Part I. At Paris, hard by the Maine barri… Whoever will choose to repair, Midst a dozen of wooden-legged war… May haply fall in with old Pierre…
When moonlike ore the hazure seas In soft effulgence swells, When silver jews and balmy breaze Bend down the Lily’s bells; When calm and deap, the rosy sleep
The castle towers of Bareacres ar… Where the cliffs of bonny Diddles… I stood upon the donjon keep and v… I saw the lands of Bareacres for… I stood upon the donjon keep—it is…
Air—"il y avait un petit navire.” There were three sailors of Brist… Who took a boat and went to sea. But first with beef and captain’s… And pickled pork they loaded she.
Come to the greenwood tree, Come where the dark woods be, Dearest, O come with me! Let us rove—O my love—O my love! Come—'tis the moonlight hour,
Je viens revoir l’asile ou ma jeun… De la misere a subi les lecons. J’avais vingt ans, une folle maitr… De francs amis et l’amour des chan… Bravant le monde et les sots et le…
The noble King of Brentford Was old and very sick, He summon’d his physicians To wait upon him quick; They stepp’d into their coaches
Beside the old hall-fire—upon my n… Of happy fairy days—what tales wer… I thought the world was once—all p… And my heart would beat to hear—th… And many a quiet night,—in slumber…
Long by the willow-trees Vainly they sought her, Wild rang the mother’s screams O’er the gray water: ‘Where is my lovely one?
Where the quivering lightning flin… His arrows from out the clouds, And the howling tempest sings And whistles among the shrouds, ’Tis pleasant, ’tis pleasant to ri…