Oxford Outside the Guide-books

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B. Blackwell, 1925 - Всего страниц: 223
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Стр. 142 - I do not love thee, Dr. Fell, The reason why I cannot tell; But this I know, and know full well, I do not love thee. Dr. Fell.
Стр. 33 - King George, observing with judicious eyes The state of both his Universities, To Oxford sent a troop of horse, and why? — That learned body wanted loyalty : To Cambridge books he sent, as well discerning How much that loyal body wanted learning.
Стр. 33 - The King to Oxford sent a troop of horse, For Tories own no argument but force ; With equal skill to Cambridge books he sent, For Whigs admit no force but argument.
Стр. 61 - Of licorys, or any cetewale. His Almageste and bokes grete and smale, His astrelabie, longinge for his art, His augrim-stones layen faire a-part On shelves couched at his beddes heed : His presse y-covered with a falding reed.
Стр. 113 - The boar's head in hand bear I, Bedeck'd with bays and rosemary; And I pray you, my masters, be merry, Quot estis in convivio. Caput apri defero Reddens laudes Domino.
Стр. 146 - Indulgent nature to each kind bestows, A secret instinct to discern its foes : The goose, a silly bird, avoids the fox ; Lambs fly from wolves ; and sailors steer from rocks ; A rogue the gallows, as his fate, foresees, And bears the like antipathy to trees.
Стр. 149 - Reginald retired for a few minutes to the corner of the room, and returned with the beautiful lines, — " No hammer fell, no ponderous axes rung, Like some tall palm the mystic fabric sprung.
Стр. 61 - Angelus ad virginem he song. And after that he song the kinges note ; Ful often blessed was his mery throte.
Стр. 147 - Within those walls, where thro' the glimm'ring shade Appear the pamphlets in a mould'ring heap, Each in his narrow bed till morning laid, The peaceful fellows of the college sleep. The tinkling bell proclaiming early prayers, The noisy servants rattling o'er their head, The calls of business, and domestic cares, Ne'er rouse these sleepers from their downy bed. No...
Стр. 147 - And through the cloister peace and silence reign, Save where some fiddler scrapes a drowsy tune, Or copious bowls inspire a jovial strain. " Save that in yonder cobweb-mantled room, Where lies a student in profound repose, Oppressed with ale; wide echoes through the gloom, The droning music of his vocal nose.

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