A selection from the works of Winthrop Mackworth Praed

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Page 14 - At his approach complaint grew mild ; And when his hand unbarred the shutter, The clammy lips of fever smiled The welcome which they could not utter He always had a tale for me Of Julius Caesar, or of Venus ; From him I learnt the rule of three, Cat's cradle, leap-frog, and Qiae genus: I used to singe his powdered wig, To steal the staff he put such trust in, And make the puppy dance a jig When he began to quote Augustine.
Page 123 - SPEAKER; dream of the time When loyalty was not quite a crime, When GRANT was a pupil in CANNING'S school, And PALMERSTON fancied WOOD a fool. Lord, how principles pass away; Sleep, Mr SPEAKER; sleep, sleep, while you may!
Page 16 - There, when the sounds of flute and fiddle Gave signal sweet in that old hall Of hands across and down the middle, Hers was the subtlest spell by far Of all that...
Page 37 - I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER. I REMEMBER — I remember How my childhood fleeted by,— The mirth of its December, And the warmth of its July ; On my brow, love — on my brow, love, There are no signs of care ; But my pleasures are not now, love, What Childhood's pleasures were.
Page 21 - NEAR a small village in the West, Where many very worthy people Eat, drink, play whist, and do their best To guard from evil Church and Steeple, There stood — alas ! it stands no more ! A tenement of brick and plaster, Of which, for forty years and four, My good friend Quince was lord and master...
Page 122 - tis surely fair If you mayn't in your bed, that you should in your chair ; Louder and longer still they grow, Tory and Radical, Aye and No ; Talking by night and talking by day : Sleep, Mr. Speaker — sleep while you may ! Sleep, Mr.
Page 24 - Some heard he had been crossed in love, Before he came away from college ; Some darkly hinted that his Grace Did nothing, great or small, without him ! Some whispered with a solemn face, That there was something odd about him...
Page 86 - twas not to invoke The Spirit that dwelleth there ; If he opened his lips, the words they spoke Had never the tone of prayer. A pious priest might the Abbot seem, He had swayed the crozier well ; But what was the theme of the Abbot's dream, The Abbot were loth to tell.
Page 22 - He went to church but once a week ; Yet Dr. Poundtext always found him An upright man, who studied Greek, And liked to see his friends around him. Asylums, hospitals, and schools, He used to swear were made to cozen ; All who subscribed to them were fools, And he subscribed to half a dozen •, It was his doctrine that the poor Were always able, never willing ; And so the beggar at his door Had first abuse, and then a shilling. Some public principles he had, But was no flatterer, nor fretter ; He...
Page 15 - In vain I look For haunts in which my boyhood trifled, — The level lawn, the trickling brook, The trees I climbed, the beds I rifled : The church is larger than before ; You reach it by a carriage entry ; It holds three hundred people more, And pews are fitted up for gentry. Sit in the Vicar's seat : you'll hear The doctrine of a gentle Johnian, Whose hand is white, whose tone is clear, Whose phrase is very Ciceronian. Where is the old man laid ? — look down, And construe on the slab before you,...

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