...seen no more below." When he comes to Italy, the garden of the Muses, he writes in his own style ! " I love the language that soft bastard Latin, Which melts like kisses from a female month, And sounds as if it should be writ on satin, With syllables which breathe of the sweet South,...

...borrow That sort of farthing candlelight which glimmers Where reeking London's smoky cauldron simmers. * I love the language, that soft bastard Latin, Which...northern whistling, grunting guttural, Which we're oblig'd to hiss, and spit, and sputter all. ' I like the women too (forgive my folly), From the rich...

...borrow That sort of farthing candlelight which glimmers Where reeking London's smoky cauldron simmers. " I love the language, that soft bastard Latin, Which...northern whistling, grunting guttural, Which we're oblig'd to hiss, and spit, and «putter all. " I like the women too, (forgive my folly,) From the rich...

...That sort of farthing candlelight which glimmers Where reeking London's smoky cauldron simmers. XLIV. I love the language, that soft bastard Latin, Which...breathe of the sweet South, And gentle liquids gliding alt so pat in, That not a single accent seems uncouth, Like our harsh northern whistling, grunting...

...female And sounds as if it should be writ on satin [sweet South, With syllables which breathe of the And gentle liquids gliding all so pat in That not...we're obliged to hiss, and spit, and sputter all." The Poem has been given to a large parentage; but from some peculiar expressions, from its ardour in...

...XLI. I love the language, that soft bastard Latin, W h.ch melts li ke kisses frnm a female month, ArM sounds as if it should be writ on satin, With syllables...so pat in. That not a single accent seems uncouth, • ** Cortejo" is pronounced ** CorteAo,*' with an aspirate according to the Arabesque guttural. It...

...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, And gentle liquids...

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

...sort of farthing candlelight, which glimmers, Where reeking London's smoky cauldron simmers, . ','r\ I love the language, that soft bastard Latin, •...Like our harsh northern whistling, grunting guttural, , Wliich we're oblig'd to hiss, and spit, and sputter all. I like the women too (forgive my folly)...

...That sort of farthing candlelight which glimmers Where reeking London's smoky cauldron simmers, XLIV. I love the language , that soft bastard Latin, Which...of the sweet South, And gentle liquids gliding all sa pat in, That not a single accent seems uncouth, Like our harsh northern whistling, grunting guttural,...