Baily's magazine of sports and pastimes, Volume 181870 |
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Palavras e frases frequentes
8st 4lb Admiral Rous aged agst athletics bad third ball blood bowling Cambridgeshire Capt Captain Colonel colt course covert cricket Crisp D'Arcey Derby Doctor favourite field filly Fortescue fox-hunting friends gentleman Gorse ground half a length hand Handicap Harry King head honour horse hounds hour hunting huntsman Hurlingham Club Jockey Club Joseph Hawley Kate King King Tom Lady late lengths between second look Lord Lord Portsmouth mare Master match Meeting miles Miss Vandervelde morning never Newmarket O'Rooney Oxford pack Plate Hp play present proposal Pytchley Quorn race racehorses ride rider scent season second and third seen Sir Joseph Hawley sire sport Stakes Steeple-chases Stokesbro stud Sutton Sylvia Thormanby Thousand Guineas three lengths took Turf two-year old W. G. Grace Wilson winner Woodridge yearlings Yorkshire young yr olds
Passagens conhecidas
Página 45 - I'll tell you, friend! a wise man and a fool. You'll find, if once the monarch acts the monk, Or, cobbler-like, the parson will be drunk, Worth makes the man, and want of it, the fellow; The rest is all but leather or prunella.
Página 323 - THE DESCRIPTION OF AN IRISH FEAST. TRANSLATED ALMOST LITERALLY OUT OF THE ORIGINAL IRISH. 1720. O ROURKE'S noble fare Will ne'er be forgot By those who were there, Or those who were not.
Página 280 - When any match or sweepstakes shall be made, and no course mentioned, the course shall be that which is usually run by horses of the same age as those engaged ; viz. If yearlings, the Yearling Course.
Página 95 - Too oft gets broken at last, There are scores of others its place to fill When its earth to the earth is cast; Keep that pitcher at home, let it never roam, But lie like a useless clod, Yet sooner or later the hour will come When its chips are thrown to the sod. Is it wise, then, say, in the waning day, When the vessel is crack'd and old, To cherish the battered potters' clay, As though it were virgin gold?
Página 37 - O'Brien, from Clare, — How quare ! It's little for blushing they care Down there, Put his arm round her waist — Gave ten kisses at laste — " Oh," says he, "you're my Molly Malone, My own ! Oh,'' says he, "you're my Molly Malone.
Página 110 - THERE is a tear for all that die, A mourner o'er the humblest grave ; But nations swell the funeral cry, And Triumph weeps above the brave. For them is Sorrow's purest sigh O'er Ocean's heaving bosom sent : In vain their bones unburied lie, All earth becomes their monument ! A tomb is theirs on every page, An epitaph on every tongue : The present hours, the future age, For them bewail, to them belong.
Página 94 - I remember the laugh that all the while On his quiet features played : — So he rode to his death, with that careless smile. In the van of the
Página 93 - Twas well ; he toil'd till his task was done, Constant and calm in his latest throe, The storm was weathered, the battle was won, When he went, my friends, where we all must go. God grant that whenever, soon or late, Our course is run and our goal is reach'd, We may meet our fate as steady and straight As he whose bones in yon desert bleach'd ; No tears are needed — our cheeks are dry, We have none to waste upon living woe ; Shall we sigh for one who has ceased to sigh, Having gone, my friends,...
Página 94 - THOUGH the pitcher that goes to the sparkling rill Too oft gets broken at last, There are scores of others its place to fill When its earth to the earth is cast ; Keep that pitcher at home, let it never roam, But lie like a useless clod, Yet sooner or later the hour will come When its chips are thrown to the sod.
Página 92 - That the bravest and fairest are earth-worms' food, When once they've gone where we all must go. With the pistol clenched in his failing hand, With the death mist spread o'er his fading eyes, He saw the sun go down on the sand, And he slept, and never saw it rise...