...XLIV. I love the langtrage, that soft bastard Latin, Which mclU like kisses from a female mouth, Aad sounds as if it should be writ on satin, With syllables...gentle liquids gliding all so pat in, That not a single acceut seems uncouth, Like our harsh northern whistling grunting guttural, Which we're obliged to hiss,...

...kisses from a female mouth. And sounds as if it should he writ on satiu. With F yllahles which hreathe of the sweet south. And gentle liquids gliding all...northern whistling, grunting guttural, Which we're ohliged to hiss, and spit, and sputter all. like the women too (forgive my folly,) From the rich peasant-cheek...

...Where reeking London's smoky caldron simmer». x XLIV. I love the language, that soft bastard Latin, Which melts like kisses from a female mouth, And sounds...harsh northern whistling, grunting guttural. Which we 're obliged to hiss, and spit, and sputter al¡. XLV. I like the women too (forgive my folly), From...

...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...harsh northern whistling, grunting guttural, Which we 're obliged to hiss, and spit, and sputter all. XLV. I like the women too, (forgive my folly), From...

...and are at ease, And, being natural, naturally please.' 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 breath of the sweet South, And gentle liquids gliding all so pat in, That not a single accent...

...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, XL. And gentle liquids gliding all so pat in, That not a single accent seems uncouth, Like our harsh...

...reeking London's smoky cauldron simmers. XLIV. { love the language, that soft bastard Latin, Which melt» like kisses from a female mouth, And sounds as if...sweet south, And gentle liquids gliding all so pat in, Tnat not a single accent seems uncouth, Like our harsh northern whistling, granting guttural, Which...

...Where reeking London's smoky caldron simmers. i XLIV. I love Ihe language, that soft bastard Latin, Which melts like kisses from a female mouth, And sounds...satin, With syllables which breathe of the sweet South, I (I) In (he MS."From the tall peasant with her ruddy bronre."— E. ¡a) III the MS— " Like her...

...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...we're obliged to hiss, and spit, and sputter all. I like the women too (forgive my folly), From the rich peasant cheek of ruddy bronze, (') And large...

...reeking London's smoky caldron simmers. XLT7. I love the language, that soft bastard Latin, Which melfcs crags, by toppling convent crown'd, The cork-trees...deep, The orange tints that gild the greenest boug we 're obliged to hiss, and spit, and sputter all. XLV. I like the women too (forgive my folly), From...