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" 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... "
The Edinburgh Review: Or Critical Journal - Page 304
1818
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The Northern star, or, Yorkshire magazine, Volume 3

Arthur Jewitt - 1818
...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,...
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Beppo: A Venetian Story

George Gordon Byron Baron Byron - Electronic books - 1818 - 51 pages
...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...
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Robinson's Magazine: A Weekly Repository of Original Papers and ..., Volume 1

1818
...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...
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The Edinburgh Magazine and Literary Miscellany, Volume 81

English literature - 1818
...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,...
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The works of ... lord Byron, Volumes 7-8

George Gordon N. Byron (6th baron.) - 1819
...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,...
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The Literary Panorama and National Register, Volume 8

English literature - 1819
...reeking London's smoky cauldron simmerę. I Inte the language, that soft, bastard Latin, Which mel'sUKe kisses from a female mouth, And sounds as if it should...satin, With syllables which breathe of the sweet South, Aid gentle liquids gliding all so pat in That not a single accent seems uncouth. bk: our hanh northern...
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The works of the rt. hon. lord Byron, Volume 2

George Gordon N. Byron (6th baron.) - 1824
...glimmers Where reeking London's smoky caldron simmers. XLIV. I love the language, that soft hastard Latin, Which melts like kisses from a female mouth, . And sounds as if it should he writ on satin, With syllahles which hreathe of the sweet South, And gentle liquids gliding all so...
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The Edinburgh Magazine and Literary Miscellany, Volume 95

English literature - 1825
...Italian. The sweet melody of this language, which Byron happily, but rather ludicrously, describes as -that soft bastard Latin Which melts like kisses from a female mouth, seems to have been intended by Nature to supply the deficiency in thought and in strength of mind,...
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Metropolitan Improvements; Or, London in the Nineteenth Century: Being a ...

Architecture - 1827 - 316 pages
...architecture only, as the noble author of Childe Harold does of their language, when he calls it " that soft bastard Latin, Which melts like kisses from...With syllables which breathe of the sweet south." So of their architecture I adapt another quotation from the same illustrious bard, and you may see...
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The works of lord Byron including his suppressed poems

George Gordon N. Byron (6th baron.) - 1827
...\Vlnrh iiiflis like kisses from a female mould, And -omuls as if it should he writ on satin, Willi syllables which breathe of the sweet south, And gentle liquids gliding all so pat in, That tiot a single accent seems uncouth, like our harsh northern whistling, grunting guttural, Which we...
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