...borrow That sort of farthing candlelight which glimmers Where reeking London's smoky caldron 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,...

...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 fournie muuth, And sounds as if it should be writ on satin, With syllables which breathe of the sweet...

...ТЫ sort of {«ruling candlelight which glimmers Where reeking London's smoky caldron simmers. XLIV. as shriek it from their caves ; The scroll» of Enoch prophesied it long I n female mouth, And sounds as if it should he writ on satin, With syllables which breathe of the sweet...

...borrow That sort of farthing candlelight which glimmers Where reeking London's smoky caldron 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,...

...own : " 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 that breathe of the sweet South, And gentle liquids gliding all so pat in That not a single accent...

...left England and drew a spiteful comparison of it with the Italian: — " I like that langnagc, the soft bastard Latin, Which melts like kisses from a female month, And -omuls ns if it should be writ on satin. With syllables that breathe of the sweet south; And gentle...

...tengue: " I love the language that soft bastard Latin, That flows like liquid music from the mouth, And sounds as if it should be writ on satin, With syllables that, breath« of the sweet south. And gentle liquids gliding all so pat in, That not a single accent...

...indifferent ear of the Zouaves on the one hand, or the defective taste of the Austrians on the other. 2 " 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,...

...That sort of farthing candlelight which glimmers Where reeking London's smoky caldron simmers. XLIV. A lower Valley in ihe Alps A Cataract.1 Enter MANFRED. It is not noon — the sunb mouth, And sounds as if it should be writ on satin, With syllables which breathe of the sweet South,...

...travail écrit sur le dialecte sarde. (2) Expressions de lord Byron en parlant de l'italien : Y love thé 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 thé sweet south...