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" I love the language, that soft bastard Latin, Which melts like kisses from a female mouth, And sounds as if it should be writ on satin, With syllables which breathe of the sweet south, And gentle liquids gliding all so pat in, That not a single accent... "
The Northern star, or, Yorkshire magazine - Страница 59
под редакцията на - 1818
Пълен достъп - Информация за книгата

The Edinburgh Review: Or Critical Journal, Том 29

1818 - 590 страници
...borrow That sort of farthing candlelight which glimmers Where reeking London's smoky cauldron simmers. * I love the language, that soft bastard Latin, Which melts like kisses from a female mouth, And sounds as if it should be writ on satin, With syllables which breathe of the sweet South,...

The Edinburgh magazine, and literary miscellany, a new series of ..., Томове 1–2

1818 - 628 страници
...borrow That sort of farthing candlelight which glimmers Where reeking London's smoky cauldron simmers. " I love the language, that soft bastard Latin, Which melts like kisses from a female mouth, And sounds as if it should be writ on satin, With syllables which breathe of the sweet South,...

Beppo: A Venetian Story

George Gordon Byron Baron Byron - 1818 - 70 страници
...That sort of farthing candlelight which glimmers Where reeking London's smoky cauldron simmers. XLIV. I love the language, that soft bastard Latin, Which melts like kisses from a female mouth, And sounds as if it should be writ on satin, With syllables which breathe of the sweet South,...

Robinson's Magazine: A Weekly Repository of Original Papers and ..., Том 1

1818 - 428 страници
...That sort of farthing candlelight which glimmers \Vlierereeking London's smoky cauldron simmers. XLI. I love the language, that soft bastard Latin, Which melts like kisses from a female mouth, And sounds a* if it should be writ on satin. With syllables which breathe of the sweet South,...

The works of ... lord Byron, Томове 7–8

George Gordon N. Byron (6th baron.) - 1819 - 466 страници
...That sort of farthing candlelight which glimmers Where reeking London's smoky cauldron simmers, XLIV. I love the language , that soft bastard Latin, Which melts like kisses from a female mouth, And sounds as if it should be writ on satin, With syllables which breathe of the sweet South,...

Hermes; oder kritisches Jahrbuch der Literatur, Томове 1–2

1819 - 884 страници
...sort of farthing candlelight, which glimmers, Where reeking London's smoky cauldron simmers, . ','r\ I love the language, that soft bastard Latin, • "Which melts like kisses from a female mouth, And sounds as if it should be writ on satin, With syllables which breathe of the sweet South,...

The works of lord Byron, Том 3

George Gordon N. Byron (6th baron.) - 1820 - 260 страници
...That sort of farthing candle light which glimmers Where reeking London's smoky caldron simmers. XLIV. I love the language, that soft bastard Latin, Which melts like kisses from a female mouth, And sounds as if it should be writ on satin, With syllables which breathe of the sweet South,...

An Historical and Critical Memoir of the Life and Writings of the Right ...

John Watkins - 1822 - 452 страници
...double rhymes ; of which the following description of the Tuscan dialect may serve as an instance : " I love the language, that soft bastard Latin, Which melts like kisses from a female mouth, And sounds as if it should be writ on satin, With syllables which breathe of the sweet South,...

Memoirs of the Life and Writings of the Right Honourable Lord Byron: With ...

John Watkins - 1822 - 476 страници
...double rhymes ; of which the following description of the Tuscan dialect may serve as an instance : " I love the language, that soft bastard Latin, Which melts like kisses from a female mouth, And sounds as if it should be writ on satin, With syllables which breathe of the sweet South,...

The works of lord Byron, comprehending the suppressed poems, Томове 5–6

George Gordon N. Byron (6th baron.) - 1822 - 614 страници
...drunken man's dead eye in maudlin sorrow, But with all heaven t' himself; that day will break as XLIV. I love the language, that soft bastard Latin, Which melts like kisses from a female mouth, - And sounds as if it should be writ on satin, With syllables which breathe of the sweet South...




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