And there, upon the banks of that loved tide,
He and Zelica sleep side by side.
H. Warren, from Poetry and pictures from Thomas Moore, London, 1858.
(Source: archive.org)
Into his bark leap’d smilingly,
And left poor Hope behind…
J. C. Horsley, from Poetry and pictures from Thomas Moore, London, 1858.
(Source: archive.org)
Fleetly o’er the moonlit snows
…………………………………….
Swift our sledge as lightning goes…
Goerge Thomas, from Poetry and pictures from Thomas Moore, London, 1858.
(Source: archive.org)
When a sunbeam was seen to glance over the walls,
And the castle of Willumberg bask’d in the ray…
Samuel Rhead, from Poetry and pictures from Thomas Moore, London, 1858.
(Source: archive.org)
Burn, bright torches, burn till morn,
And lead us where the wild boar lies.
Harrison Weir, from Poetry and pictures from Thomas Moore, London, 1858.
(Source: archive.org)
- Tell me, Mrs. Jones, who is that young Adonis your married daughter is looking up to so eagerly?
- Her husband, Mrs. Snarley.
- Dear me, you don’t say so! I congratulate you… Now I understand how you come to have such good-looking grand-children.
George Du Maurier, from English society, New York, 1897.
(Source: archive.org)
- Brown (who was all but run over): Why didn’t you call out sooner, you stupid ass?
- Cabby: I did, Sir!
- Brown: Why didn’t you call louder, then?
- Cabby: I did, Sir!
George Du Maurier, from English society, New York, 1897.
(Source: archive.org)







