Stanley,’ I said. Where Saint Giles' church stands, once a lazar-house stood; And, chain'd to its gates, was a vessel of wood; A broad-bottom'd bowl, from which all the fine fellows, Who pass'd by that spot, on their way to the gallows, Might tipple strong beer, Their spirits to cheer, And drown in a sea of good liquor all fear! For nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles So well as a draught from the Bowl of Saint Giles! II. Macera dolu bir yolculuk sırasında, denizin sırları, tehlikeleri ve güzellikleriyle karşılaştılar. Martin came to the stage from his section, his own violin in hand. A faint gleam of returning colour gave her at once a more natural appearance. Ah, these English! They travelled all over, up and down the world, not to acquire information but rather to leave the impress of their superiority as a race.
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