-Oh, my sire! Stern daughter of the voice of God. Still to be neat, still to be drest Sweep ho! Sweep ho! Tell me not, sweet, I am unkind Rashly, -And praised be rashness for it Reason thus with life . Remove yon skull from out the scattered heaps. Rise up, rise up, Xarifa! lay the golden cushion down Royal Egypt! Empress Rudolph, professor of the headsman's trade Ruin seize thee, ruthless king Rumble thy belly full! spit fire! spout rain! Run, shepherds, run where Bethlehem blest appears Say to me, whose fortunes shall rise higher Say, what is Honor? Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled See how the Orient dew. See living vales by living waters blest See the chariot at hand here of love See yonder souls set far within the shade Shall I, wasting in despair? She, of whose soul, if we may say, 'twas gold. Silence augmenteth grief-writing encreaseth rage. Silent, O Moyle, be the roar of thy water Sing, and let your song be new Sing, O Goddess, the wrath, the ontamable dander of Keitt Sitting in my window Sleep is like death, and after sleep So, when their feet were planted on the plain St. Mark's hushed abbey heard Star of the flowers and flower of the stars Svend Vonved binds his sword to his side. Sweet country life, to such unknown Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright Sweet echo, sweetest nymph that liv'st unseen Sweetness, truth, and every grace Sweet peace, where dost thou dwell Sweet scented flower, who art wont to bloom Take along with thee Take, O take those lips away. Teach me, my God and King Tell me where is fancy bred Tell us, thou clear and heavenly tongue Thanks for the lessons of this spot That instrument ne'er heard. That regal soul I reverence in whose eyes That which her slender waist confined The Abbot on the threshold stood The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold The barge she sat in, like a burnished throne. SHAKSPEARE 521 171 192 447 35 521 O. W. HOLMES 503 GRAY 215 SHAKSPEARE 102 WILLIAM DRUMMOND 190 SHAKSPEARE 519 WORDSWORTH 144 The birds against the April wind The bush that has most briars and bitter fruit The curfew tolls the knell of parting day The daughter of a king, how should I know?. The destiny, minister general The earth goes on, the earth glittering in gold The feathered songster Chanticleer The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices The gods be your terror. . The harp that once through Tara's halls. The king is full of grace and fair regard The king is kind; and well we know The king sits in Dunfermline town The Lord descended from above The minstrels played their Christmas tune The muse doth tell me where to borrow The muse, nae poet ever fand her The night is come like to the day SIR T. BROWNE 185 The night is made for cooling shade. The pines were dark on Ramoth hill WHITTIER 79 The sky is changed; and such a change There are points from which we can command our life P. BAILEY The recluse hermit ofttimes more doth know. There in the fane a beauteous creature stands There is a history in all men's lives There is a mystery in the soul of state There is a pleasure in the pathless woods There is a Yew-tree, pride of Lorton Vale There where death's brief pang was quickest. There was a laughing devil in his sneer There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream. The sea rolls vaguely, and the stars are dumb A. H. CLOUGH. BYRON. BYRON TENNYSON COWLEY WHITTIER W. MITCHELL. SCOTT 20 517 31 269 512 222 173 385 513 441 268 231 218 455 40 330 GEORGE MACDONALD. 318 The wintry west extends his blast This army led by a delicate and tender prince This castle hath a pleasant seat; the air Thou hast learned the woes of all the world Thou that hast a daughter Thou that hast given so much to me. Thou wast not born for death, immortal bird!. Thou whose sweet youth and early hopes enhance. Three score o' nobles rade up the king's ha' Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back. "Tis night, and the landscape is lovely no more. 'Tis not every day that I "Tis not in battles that from youth we train "Tis truth, although this truth's a star To be furious To beguile the time To be no more - sad cure To be or not to be, that is the question To fair Fidele's grassy tomb To heroism and holiness Toiling in the naked fields JOHN CLARE 456 To keep the lamp alive To me men are for what they are MILNES 145 Toll for the brave. COWPER 463 To the belfry one by one, went the ringers from the sun MRS. BROWNING 404 SCOTT 449 True bard and simple, as the race Triumphal arch, that fill'st the sky 'Twas All-Souls' eve, and Surrey's heart beat high 'Twas at the royal feast for Persia won Two went to pray-oh! rather say Two voices are there; one is of the sea When biting Boreas, fell and doure When first thou didst entice to thee my heart When I a verse shall make When I consider how my light is spent When I do count the clock that tells the time When I love as some have told When Love with unconfined wings When Music, heavenly maid, was young When spring to woods and wastes around When the moon is on the wave When the radiant morn of creation broke When with the virgin morning thou dost rise. Where have ye been, ye ill woman? Where is Timarchus gone? Where like a pillow on a bed Where the bee sucks, there suck I Where the remote Bermudas ride Which I wish to remark. While from the purpling east departs While malice, Pope, denies thy page Whither midst falling dew. Who counts himself as nobly born Who can divine what impulses from God Who is the happy warrior Who is the honest man Whose are the gilded tents that crowd the way. Whoso him bethoft Why fearest thou the outward foe Willie stands in his stable door Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day Within my ears resounds that ancient song Within the mind strong fancies work Ye banks and braes of bonnie Doon Ye distant spires, ye antique towers Ye scattered birds that faintly sing Yes, I answered you last night Ye sigh not when the sun his course fulfilled Yet a few days, and thee Yet do I fear thy nature. Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more Your grace shall pardon me LADY ANNE LINDSAY BYRON SHAKSPEARE Zekle crep' up quite unbeknown You lay a wreath on murdered Lincoln's bier You meaner beauties of the night Young Jamie lo'ed me weel, and he sought me for his bride Young Neuha plunged into the deep TOM TAYLOR WOTTON. You that can look through Heaven, and tell the stars BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER. 254 66 383 378 207 155 |