Digitized by tine Internet Arcliive in 2007 witli funding from IVIicrosoft Corporation littp://www.arcliive.org/details/cowperantliologyOOarbeiala THE COWPER ANTHOLOGY. I 775-1 800 A.D. BRIT. ANTH. X. BRITISH ANTHOLOGIES. I. The Dunbar Anthology . II. The Surrey and Wyatt Anthology III. The Spenser Anthology . IV. The Shakespeare Anthology V. The Jonson Anthology VI. The Milton Anthology . VII. The Dryden Anthology VIII. The Pope Anthology IX. The Goldsmith Anthology X. The Cowper Anthology . I 401-1508 a.d. 1509-1547 A.D. 1548-1591 A-D- 1592-1616 a.d. 1617-1637 A.D. I638-1674 A.D. 1675-I7OO A.D. I7OI-I744 A.D. I 745-1 774 A.D. 1 775-1800 A.D. WILLIAiM COWPEK. SELECTIONS FROM THE ENGLISH POETS. THE COWPER ANTHOLOGY. 177^-1800. EDITED BY Professor EDWARD ARBER, f.s.a., FELLOW OF king's COLLEGE, LONDON, ETC. WITH PORTRAITS. ' A thing of beauty is a joy for ever ; Its loveliness increases.' Keats. LONDON: HENRY FROWDE, OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS WAREHOUSE, AMEN CORNER, E.C. NEW YORK: 91 & 93 Fifth Avenue. 1901. LIST OF PORTRAITS. William Cowper Frontispiece. Robert Burns To face p. ^i^ Richard Brinsley Butler Sheridan „ 96 William Wordsworth .... „ 166 Robert Southey „ 184 Charles Lamb „ 222 Samuel Taylor Coleridge ... „ 232 CONTENTS. Anonymous Poems, 41, 48, 49, 52, 89, 104, 105, in, 115-117, Anti-Jacobin (1797) [viz, W. Gifford, J. H. Frere, G. Can- ning, and G. Ellis] ; The Authors of the . Baillie (1762-1851); Joanna Blake (i 757-1 827) ; William Blamire (1747-1794); Susanna .... Bowles (1762-1850); Rev. William Lisle . Burns (1759-1796) ; Robert Canning, the Younger (1770-1827); Rt. Hon. George Anti-Jacobin Cherry (1762-1812) ; Andrew .... Coleridge (1772-1834) ; Samuel Taylor . Cowper (1731-1800) ; William .... Dalrymple (c. 1762); Lieutenant-Colonel James. DiBDiN (1745-1814); Charles .... Dudgeon (1753-1813) ; William .... Edwards ( 1 743-1 800) ; Bryan .... Ellis (1753-1815); George— see Anti-Jacobin Ewen (1741-1821); John Ferrier (1782-1854); Susan Edmonstone Frere (1769-1846); John Hookham— see Anti-Jacobin Gall (1776-1801) ; Richard Gifford (1756-1826) ; William— see Anti-Jacobin Grant, of Laggan (1755-1838) ; Anne . Grant (c. 1780) ; Rev. Dr. — Hayley (1745-1820); William .... Hoare (1755-1834); Prince Hunter (1742-1821); Anne (Home, afterwards) . Lamb (1775-1834); Charles Lewis (1775-1818) ; Matthew Gregory Lloyd (1775-1839); Charles .... Lovell (c. 1795) ; Robert Lowe (1750-1798); John Macneill (1746-1818); Hector .... Moore, Bart. (1756-1780); Sir John Henry V PAGE 124, 138, 150, 160 Contents. PAGE Nairne, Baroness Nairne ^766-1845); CAROLINA (Oli- PHANT, afterwards) 218-222 O'Keefe (1747-1833) ; John 46,47 O'Neill, Viscountess O'Neill (175^^-1793) : Henrietta (Boyle, afterwards) 112, 113 Pearce {c. 1793) ; William 99 Porter (1780-1832); Anna Maria 210,211 Pye, M.P. (1745-1813), Poet Laureate from 1790 to 1813 ; Henry James 100, 101 Radcliffe (1764-1822); Ann 214-217 Richardson (i 743-1814); Professor William 152,153 Rogers (1763 -1855); Samuel 106-108 RoscoE (1753-1831); William 224,225 Sheridan (1751-1816) ; Rt. Hon. Richard Brinslev Butler . 96-98 Smart (1722-1771); Christopher 42,43 Smith (1749-1806) ; Charlotte (Turner, afterwards) . 92 Smyth (1765-1849) ; Professor William .... 226-228 .SOUTHEY (1774-T843), Poet Laureate from 1813 to 1843; Robert 184-188 Spencer (1769- 1 834); Hon. William Robert . . . 206-209 Stewart (1765-1838); Helen D'Arcy (Cranstoun, after- wards) 204,205 T. {c. 1806); J 21 Thompson (1712-1766); William 44 TowNSHEND, Marquis Townshend (1724-1807): George . 161 Upton {c. 1790) ; William 203 Warton, B.D. (1728-1790), Poet Laureate from 1785 to 1790; Rev. Thomas 40 Whitehead (1710-1774); Paui 125 WoLCOT, who wrote under the name of Peter Pindar (1738-1819); Rev. John 126-137 Wordsworth (1770-1850), Poet Laureate from 1843 to 1850; William 165-183 WoTY (1731-1791); William 114 FIRST LINES AND NOTES 297 GLOSSARY AND INDEX 302 GENERAL INDEX OF FIRST LINES .... 313 vi THE COWPER ANTHOLOGY. 1 775-1800 A. D. The entertaining and facetious History of JOHN GILPIN; ^ SHEWING HOW HE WENT FARTHER THAN HE INTENDED, I AND CAME HOME SAFE AT LAST. To the Tune of Chevy Chace. '' John Gilpin was a Citizen Of credit and renown; A Train-Band Captain eke was he Of famous London Town. BRIT. ANTH. X. IVilliam Cowper. John Gilpin's Spouse said to her Dear, ' Though wedded we have been These twice ten tedious years ; yet we No holiday have seen! ' To-morrow is our Wedding Day, And we will then repair Unto the Bell at Edmonton, All in a chaise and pair. ' My sister and my sister's child. Myself and children three, Will fill the chaise ; so you must ride On horseback after we ! ' He soon replied, ' I do admire Of womankind but one ; And you are She, my dearest Dear I Therefore it shall be done! * I am a Linendraper bold, As all the World does know; And my good friend, the Calender, Will lend his horse to go.' Quoth Mrs. Gilpin, ' That 's well said ; And for that wine is dear, We will be furnished with our own, W^hich is so bright and clear.' IVilliafn Cowper. John Gilpin kissed his loving Wife ; O'erjoyed was he to find, That, though on pleasure she was bent, She had a frugal mind. The morning came. The chaise was brought ; But yet was not allowed To drive up to the door, lest all Should say that she was proud ! So, three doors off the chaise was stayed, Where they did all get in; Six precious Souls, and all agog To dash through thick and thin. Smack went the whip, round went the wheels ; Were never folks so glad ! The stones did rattle underneath, As if Cheapside were mad! John Gilpin, at his horse's side, Seized fast the flowing mane ; And up he got in haste to ride, But soon came down again : For saddletree scarce reached had he, His journey to begin, When, turning round his face, he saw Three customers come in. B 2 3 IVilliam Cowper. So down he came ; for loss of time, Although it grieved him sore ; Yet loss of pence, full well he knew. Would grieve him still much more ! 'Twas long before the customers Were suited to their mind ; When Betty screamed into his ears, * The wine is left behind ! ' Good lack ! ' quoth he, ' yet bring it me ! My leathern belt likewise ; In which I bear my trusty sword, When I do exercise.' Now, Mistress Gilpin, careful Soul ! Had two stone bottles found. To hold the liquor which she loved, And keep it safe and sound. Each bottle had two curling: ears. Through which the belt he drew ; He hung one bottle on each side, To make his balance true. Then, over all, that he might be Equipped from top to toe, His long red cloak, well brushed and neat, He manfully did throw. 4 IVillimn Cowper. Now, see him, mounted once again Upon his nimble steed, Full slowly pacing o'er the stones. With caution and good heed. But, finding soon a smoother road Beneath his well-shod feet, The snorting beast began to trot; Which galled him in his seat. So, 'Fair and softly!* John did cry; But John, he cried in vain! That trot .became a gallop soon, In spite of curb or rein. So stooping down, as he needs must, Who cannot sit upright, He grasped the mane with both his hands, And eke with all his might ! Away went Gilpin, neck or nought! Away went hat and wig I He little dreamt, when he set out, Of running such a rig ! The horse, who never had before Been handled in this kind. Affrighted, fled I and, as he flew, Left all the World behind. H^'illiam Cowper. The wind did blow, the cloak did fly Like streamer long and gay. Till, loop and button failing both, At last, it flew away ! Then might all people well discern The bottles he had slung, A bottle swinging at each side. As has been said, or sung. The dogs did bark, the children screamed, Up flew the windows all ; And ev'ry Soul cried out, 'Well done!' As loud as he could bawl. Away went Gilpin, who but he! His fame soon spread around, * He carries weight! He rides a race! 'Tis for a Thousand Pound[s]!' And still, as fast as he drew near, 'Twas wonderful to view How, in a trice, the Turnpike-men Their Gates wide open threw ! And now, as he went, bowing down His reeking head full low, The bottles twain, behind his back, Were shattered at a blow. 6 JVilliam Cowper. Down ran the wine into the road, Most piteous to be seen ; And made his horse's flanks to smoke, As he had basted been. But still he seemed to carry weight, With leathern girdle braced, For still the bottle-necks were left Both dangling at his waist. Thus, all through merry Islington, These gambols he did play, And till he came unto the Wash Of Edmonton so gay. And there he threw the Wash about On both sides of the way ; Just like unto a trundling mop, Or a wild goose at play. At Edmonton, his loving Wife, From the balcony espied Her tender Husband ; wond'ring much To see how he did ride. * Stop ! Stop ! John Gilpin ! Here *s the house ! * They all at once did cry, * The dinner waits ; and we are tired ! ' Said Gilpin, ' So am I ! ' 7 William Cowper. But, ah ! his horse was not a whit Inclined to tarry there, For why ? His owner had a house Full ten miles off, at Ware. So like an arrow swift he flew, Shot by an Archer strong ; So did he fly ! which brings me to The middle of my Song. Away went Gilpin, out of breath, And sore against his will. Till at his friend's, the Calender's, His horse at last stood still. The Calender, surprised to see His friend in such a trim, Laid down his pipe, flew to the gate, And thus accosted him. ' What news ? What news ? The tidings tell ! Make haste, and tell me all ! Say, Why, bare-headed, you are come } Or why you come at all } ' Now Gilpin had a pleasant wit, And loved a timely joke. And thus unto the Calender, In merry strains he spoke. 8 Willimn Cowper. ' I came, because your horse would come ; And, if I well forebode, My hat and wig will soon be here ! They are upon the road ! ' The Calender, right glad to find His friend in merry pin, Returned him not a single word ; But to the house went in. Whence straight he came, with hat and wig A wig that drooped behind, A hat not much the worse for wear; Each comely in its kind. He held them up; and, in his turn, Thus shewed his ready wit. * My head is twice as big as yours ; They therefore needs must fit! ' But let me scrape the dirt away That hangs about your face ! And stop and eat! for well you may Be in a hungry case.' Said John, 'It is my Wedding Day; And folks would gape and stare. If Wife should dine at Edmonton, And I should dine at Ware!' IVilliam Cowper. Then speaking to his horse, he said, ' I am in haste to dine ! 'Twas for your pleasure you came here ! You shall go back for mine ! ' Ah ! luckless word and bootless boast ; For which he paid full dear! For, while he spoke, a braying ass Did sing most loud and clear : Whereat his horse did snort, as if He heard a lion roar ; And galloped off with all his might, As he had done before. Away went Gilpin! and away Went Gilpin's hat and wig! He lost them sooner than at first ! For why ? They were too big I Now Gilpin's Wife, when she had seen Her Husband posting down Into the country far away, She pulled out Half a Crown. And thus unto the Youth she said, That drove them to the Bell, ' This shall be yours, when you bring back My Husband safe and well ! ' lO JVilliain Cowper. The Youth did ride, and soon they met; He tried to stop John's horse, By seizing fast the flowing rein, But only made things worse : For, not performing what he meant And gladly would have done. He thereby frighted Gilpin's horse, And made him faster run. Away went Gilpin ; and away Went Post-boy at his heels I The Post-boy's horse right glad to miss The lumber of the wheels. Six Gentlemen, upon the road, Thus seeing Gilpin fly, With Post-boy scamp'ring in the rear, They raised the Hue and Cry! 'Stop thief! Stop thief! A highwayman!* Not one of them was mute! So they, and all that passed that way. Soon joined in the pursuit. But all the Turnpike Gates again Flew open, in short space ; The men still thinking, as before, That Gilpin rode a race. II ly'illiam Cowper. And so he did ; and won it too ! For he got first to Town ; Nor stopped till, where he first got up. He did again get down. Now let us sing, * Long live the King ! And Gilpin, long live he!' And when he next does ride abroad, May I be there to see ! A COMPARISON. The lapse of Time and Rivers is the same. Both speed their journey, with a restless stream ! The silent pace, with which they steal away. No Wealth can bribe! no Prayers persuade to stay! Alike irrevocable both when past; And a wide ocean swallows both at last ! Though each resemble each in evVy part, A difference strikes at length the musing heart. Streams never flow in vain ! Where streams abound. How laughs the land, with various plenty crowned ! But Time, that should enrich the nobler mind, Neglected, leaves a dreary waste behind 1 12 IVilliani Cowper. THE ROSE. The Rose had been washed, just washed in a shower, Which Mary to Anna conveyed ; The plentiful moisture encumbered the flower, And weighed down its beautiful head. The cup was all filled, and the leaves were all wet ; And it seemed, to a fanciful view, To weep for the buds it had left with regret On the flourishing bush where it grew. I hastily seized it, unfit as it was For a nosegay, so dripping and drowned ; And swinging it rudely, too rudely, alas ! I snapped it : it fell to the ground. ' And such,' I exclaimed, * is the pitiless part Some act by the delicate mind ! Regardless of wringing and breaking a heart Already to sorrow resigned. ' This elegant Rose, had I shaken it less, Might have bloomed with the owner awhile ! And the tear that is wiped with a little address. May be followed, perhaps, by a smile!* 13 IVilliain Cowper. THE SYMPTOMS OF LOVE. Would my Delia know, if I love? let her take My last thought at night, and the first when I wake ; With my prayers and best wishes preferred for her sake ! Let her guess, what I muse on ! when, rambling alone, I stride o'er the stubble, each day, with my gun ; Never ready to shoot, till the covey is flown ! Let her think, what odd whimsies I have in my brain, When I read one page over and over again ; And discover, at last, that I read it in vain ! Let her say, why so fixed and so steady my look, Without ever regarding the person who spoke ; Still affecting to laugh, without hearing the joke! Or why, when with pleasure her praises I hear (That sweetest of melody, sure, to my ear !), I attend, and at once inattentive appear! And lastly, when summoned to drink to my Flame, Let her guess, why I never once mention her name ; Though herself and the woman I love are the same ! HUMAN FRAILTY. Weak and irresolute is Man! The purpose of To-day, Woven with pains into his plan, To-morrow rends away! H William Cowper. The bow well bent, and smart the spring, Vice seems already slain ; But Passion rudely snaps the string, And it revives again ! Some foe to his upright intent Finds out his weaker part : Virtue engages his assent ; But Pleasure wins his heart! 'Tis here, the folly of the wise, Through all his art, we view ; And while his tongue the charge denies. His conscience owns it true ! Bound on a voyage of awful length, And dangers little known, A stranger to superior strength, Man vainly trusts his own ! But oars alone can ne'er prevail To reach the distant coast ! The breath of Heaven must swell the sail, Or all the toil is lost! 15 JVilliani Cowper. On the receipt of MY MOTHER'S PICTURE OUT OF Norfolk; The gift of mv cousin, Anne Bodham, February 25, 1790. O, THAT those lips had language ! Life has passed With me but roughly, since I heard thee last! Those lips are thine ! Thy own sweet smiles I see ! The same that oft in childhood solaced me ! Voice only fails ; else how distinct they say, * Grieve not, my child ! Chase all thy fears away ! ' The meek intelligence of those dear eyes (Blest be the Art that can immortalize! The Art that baffles Time's tyrannic claim To quench it !) here shines on me still the same ! Faithful remembrancer of one so dear, O, welcome guest ! though unexpected, here ! Who bid'st me honour, with an artless Song Affectionate, a Mother lost so long! I will obey, not willingly alone. But gladly, as the precept were her own; And, while that face renews my filial grief, Fancy shall weave a charm for my relief! i6 William Cowper. Shall steep me in Elysian reverie, A momentary dream that thou art She ! My Mother ! When I learned that thou wast dead, Say, Wast thou conscious of the tears I shed ? Hovered thy spirit o'er thy sorrowing son ? Wretch even then, Life's journey just begun ! Perhaps, thou gav st me, though unseen, a kiss ? ' Perhaps, a tear ? if souls can weep in bliss. Ah ! that maternal smile ! It answers, ' Yes ! ' I heard the bell tolled on thy burial day, I saw the hearse that bore thee slow away ; And, turning from my Nurs'ry window, drew A long, long, sigh ; and wept a last Adieu ! But was it such ? It was. Where thou art gone, ' Adieus ! ' and ' Farewells ! ' are a sound unknown ! May I but meet thee on that peaceful shore. The parting sound shall pass my lips no more ! Thy maidens grieved themselves at my concern, Oft gave me promise of a quick return. What ardently I wished, I long believed ; And disappointed still, was still deceived ! By expectation every day beguiled ; Dupe of to-morrow, even from a child! Thus, many a sad to-morrow came and went, Till, all my stock of infant sorrow spent, I learned, at last, submission to my lot : But, though I less deplored thee, ne'er forgot! Where once we dwelt, our name is heard no more Children not thine have trod my Nurs'ry floor ; BRIT, ANTH. X. C \~l William Cowper. Ajid where the Gard'ner, Robin, day by day, Drew me to School along the public way, Delighted with my bauble coach, and wrapped In scarlet mantle warm, and velvet capped; 'Tis now become a history little known. That once we called the Past'ral House our own. Short-lived possession! But the record fair That mem'ry keeps of all thy kindness there. Still outlives many a storm that has effaced A thousand other themes less deeply traced. Thy nightly visits to my chamber made, That thou mightst know me safe, and warmly laid ; Thy morning bounties, ere I left my home, The biscuit, or confectionary plum ; The fragrant waters, on my cheeks bestowed By thy own hand, till fresh they shone and glowed: All this, and more endearing still than all, Thy constant flow of love, that knew no fall ! Ne'er roughened by those cataracts and breaks That humour, interposed, too often makes ! All this, still legible in mem'ry's page. And still to be so to my latest age, Adds joy to duty ! makes me glad to pay Such honours to thee, as my Numbers may! Perhaps, a frail memorial ; but sincere ! Not scorned in Heaven, though little noticed here. Could Time, his flight reversed, restore the hours When, playing with thy vesture's tissued flowers, i8 IVilliafn Cowper. The violet, the pink, and jessamine, I pricked them into paper with a pin (And thou wast happier than myself the while ? Wouldst softly speak, and stroke my head, and smile !) ; Could those few pleasant hours again appear. Might one wish bring them, would I wish them here ? I would not trust my heart! The dear delight Seems so to be desired, perhaps, I might! But, No ! What here we call our life is such, So little to be loved, and thou so much ; That I should ill requite thee, to constrain Thy unbound spirit into bonds again ! Thou, as a gallant bark, from Albion's coast (The storms all weathered, and the Ocean crossed), Shoots into port at some well-havened isle. Where spices breathe and brighter seasons smile, There, sits quiescent on the floods, that show Her beauteous form reflected clear below ; While airs, impregnated with incense, play Around her, fanning light her streamers gay : So thou, with sails how swift ! hast reached the shore ' Where tempests never beat, nor billows roar ' ^ ; And thy loved Consort, on the dang'rous tide Of life, long since has anchored by thy side. But me, scarce hoping to attain that rest, Always from port withheld, always distrest ; Me, howling winds drive devious, tempest-tost. Sails ripped, seams op'ning wide, and compass lost; * Sir Samuel Garth. C 2 19 Williarn Cowper. And, day by day, some current's thwarting force Sets me more distant from a prosp'rous course. But, O, the thought that thou art safe, and he ! That thought is joy, arrive what may to me ! My boast is not that I deduce my birth From loins enthroned, and rulers of the earth ; But higher far, my proud pretensions rise ! The son of parents passed into the skies ! And now, Farewell ! Time, unrevoked, has run His wonted course ; yet what I wished is done. By Contemplation's help, not sought in vain, I seem t' have lived my childhood o'er again ! To have renewed the joys that once were mine. Without the sin of violating thine ! And, while the wings of Fancy still are free, And I can view this mimic show of thee ; Time has but half succeeded in his theft ! Thyself removed, thy power to soothe me left ! A RIDDLE. I AM just two and two ! I am warm, I am cold ; And the parent of numbers that cannot be told ! I am lawful, unlawful ! a duty, a fault ! I am often sold dear ; good for nothing when bought ! An extraordinary boon, and a matter of course ! And yielded with pleasure, when taken by force ! ao y. T. and William Cowper. J. T. Answer, A Riddle by Cowper Made me swear like a trooper! But my anger, alas ! was in vain ! For remembering the bliss Of Beauty's soft Kiss, I now long for such Riddles again! Verses supposed to be written by ALEXANDER SELKIRK, during his solitary abode in the Island of ^uan Fernandez. I AM Monarch of all I survey! My right there is none to dispute! From the centre all round to the sea, I am Lord of the fowl and the brute! O, Solitude ! where are the charms That Sages have seen in thy face ? Better dwell in the midst of Alarms, Than reign in this horrible place ! William Cowper. I am out of Humanity's reach ! I must finish my journey alone! Never hear the sweet music of speech ; I start at the sound of my own! The beasts that roam over the plain, My form with indifference see ! They are so unacquainted with Man, Their tameness is shocking to me! Society, Friendship, and Love, Divinely bestowed upon Man, O, had I the wings of a dove, How soon would I taste you again! My sorrows I then might assuage In the ways of Religion and Truth! Might learn from the wisdom of Age, And be cheered by the sallies of Youth ! Religion! what treasure untold Resides in that heavenly word ! More precious than silver and gold, Or all that this earth can afford ! But the sound of the Church going bell. These valleys and rocks never heard ! Never sighed at the sound of a Knell ; Or smiled when a Sabbath appeared ! 22 William Cowper. Ye winds! that have made me your sport, Convey to this desolate shore Some cordial endearing report Of a land I shall visit no more! My friends ! do they now and then send A wish, or a thought, after me ? O, tell me, I yet have a friend ; Though a friend I am never to see! How fleet is a glance of the mind! Compared with the speed of its flight, The tempest itself lags behind, And the swift-winged arrows of light! When I think of my own native land, In a moment I seem to be there 1 But, alas! Recollection, at hand, Soon hurries me back to despair! But the sea-fowl is gone to her nest, The beast is laid down in his lair, Even here, is a season of rest ; And I, to my Cabin repair. There is mercy in ev'ry place ! And mercy, encouraging thought! Gives even affliction a grace; And reconciles Man to his lot. 23 IVilliani Cowper. EPITAPH ON A HARE. Cowper had three tame hares — Bess, Tiney, and Past. Here lies, whom hound did ne'er pursue, Nor swifter greyhound follow ; Whose foot ne'er tainted morning dew, Nor ear heard huntsman's halloo. Tiney, the surliest of his kind ! Who, nursed with tender care, And to domestic bounds confined, Was yet a wild Jack hare. Though duly from my hand he took His pittance every night, He did it with a jealous look ; And, when he could, would bite. His diet was of wheaten bread, And milk, and oats, and straw; Thistles, or lettuces instead ; And sand to cleanse his maw. On twigs of hawthorn he regaled, On pippins' russet peel ; And, when his juicier salads failed, Sliced carrot pleased him well. 24 William Cowper. A Turkey carpet was his lawn ; Whereon he loved to bound, To skip and gambol like a fawn, And swing himself around. His frisking was at evening hours, For then he lost his fear ; But most before approaching showers, Or when a storm drew near. Eight years and five long rolling moons He saw thus steal away, Dozing out all his idle noons, And every night at play. I kept him for old service sake ; For he would oft beguile My heart of thoughts that made it ache. And force me to a smile. But now, beneath his walnut shade, He finds his long last home; And waits, in snug concealment laid, Till gentler Puss shall come. He, in his turn, must feel the shocks From which no care can save ; And, partner once of Tiney's box, Be partner of his grave ! 25 William Cowper. THE POPLAR FIELD. The Poplars are felled; and Adieu to the shade And the whispering sound of the cool colonnade ! The winds play no longer and sing in their leaves ; Nor the Ouse in its bosom their image receives! Twelve years had elapsed, since I last took a view Of my favourite field, and the bank where they grew ; When, behold ! on their sides, in the grass, they were laid; And I sat on the trees, under which I had strayed. The blackbird has sought out another retreat, Where the hazels afford him a screen from the heat; And the scene where his notes have oft charmed me before, Shall resound with his sweet-flowing ditty no more! My fugitive years are all hast'ning away! And 1 must, alas ! lie as lowly as they, With a turf on my breast, and a stone at my head, Ere another such grove rises up in their stead ! The change both my heart and my fancy employs ; I reflect on the frailty of Man and his joys I Short-lived as we are ; yet our pleasures, we see, Have a still shorter date, and die sooner than we ! 26 IVilliani Cowper. THE LILY AND THE ROSE. The Nymph must lose her female friend, If more admired than she ; But where will fierce contention end, If Flowers can disagree ? Within the gardens peaceful scene Appeared two lovely foes, Aspiring to the rank of Queen — The Lily and the Rose. The Rose soon reddened into rage ; And, swelling with disdain, Appealed to many a Poet's page, To prove her right to reign. The Lily's height bespoke command; A fair imperial flower, She seemed designed for Flora's hand, The sceptre of her power ! This civil bick'ring and debate The Goddess chanced to hear ; And flew to save, ere yet too late. The pride of the parterre ! 27 William Co7uper. ' Yours is,' she said, ' the nobler hue ; And yours, the stateHer mien! And till a third surpasses you, Let each be deemed a Queen ! ' Thus soothed and reconciled, each seeks The fairest British Fair; The seat of empire is her cheeks, They reign united there I ON THE LOSS OF THE 'ROYAL GEORGE.' [August 27, 178J2.] Written when the news arrived. To the March in Scipio. Toll for the brave ! The brave that are no more 1 All sunk beneath the wave Fast by their native shore! Eight hundred of the brave, Whose courage well was tried, Had made the vessel heel. And laid her on her side. A land-breeze shook the shrouds, And she was overset ; Down went the Royal George, With all her crew complete ! 28 William Cowper. Toll for the brave ! Brave Kempenfelt is gone ! His last sea-fight is fought ! His work of glory done! It was not in the battle ; No tempest gave the shock ! She sprang no fatal leak ! She ran upon no rock ! His sword was in its sheath, His fingers held the pen, When Kempenfelt went down With twice four hundred men. Weigh the vessel up ! Once dreaded by our foes; And mingle with our cup The tear that England owes ! Her timbers yet are sound; And she may float again, Full charged with England's thunder, And plough the distant Main ! But Kempenfelt is gone ! His victories are o'er ! And he and his eight hundred Shall plough the wave no more! 29 William Cowper. THE NEEDLESS ALARM. A Tale. There is a field, through which I often pass, Thick overspread with moss and silky grass, Adjoining close to Kilwick's echoing Wood; Where oft the bitch-fox hides her hapless brood, Reserved to solace many a neighb'ring Squire, That he may follow them, through brake and briar, Contusion hazarding of neck or spine ; Which rural Gentlemen call Sport divine. A narrow brook, by rushy banks concealed, Runs in a bottom, and divides the field ; Oaks intersperse it, that had once a head. But now wear crests of oven-wood instead ; And, where the land slopes to its wat'ry bourn. Wide yawns a Gulf, beside a ragged thorn ; Bricks line the sides, but shivered long ago, And horrid brambles intertwine below ; A hollow scooped, I judge, in ancient time. For baking earth, or burning rock to lime. Not yet the hawthorn bore her berries red. With which the fieldfare, wintry guest ! is fed ; Nor Autumn yet had brushed from ev'ry spray. With her cfhill hand, the mellow leaves away ; But corn was housed, and beans were in the stack: Now therefore issued forth the spotted pack, 30 William Cowper. With tails high mounted, ears hung low, and throats With a whole gamut filled of heav'nly notes ; For which, alas! my Destiny severe. Though ears she gave me two, gave me no ear! The sun, accomplishing his early march, His lamp now planted on heaven's topmost arch; When, exercise and air my only aim. And heedless whither, to that field I came, Ere yet, with ruthless joy, the happy hound Told hill and dale that Reynard's track was found ; Or, with the high-raised horn's melodious clang. All Kilwick ^ and all Dingle-derry ^ rang. Sheep grazed the field, some with soft bosom prest The herb, as soft ; while nibbling strayed the rest : Nor noise was heard but of the hasty brook. Struggling, detained in many a petty nook. All seemed so peaceful, that, from them conveyed. To me their peace by kind contagion spread. But when the Huntsman, with distended cheek, 'Gan make his instrument of music speak ; And from within the Wood that crash was heard, Though not a hound, from whom it burst, appeared ; The sheep recumbent and the sheep that grazed, All huddling into phalanx, stood and gazed, Admiring, terrified, the novel strain ; [again : Then coursed the field around, and coursed it round But recollecting, with a sudden thought. That flight in circles urged advanced them nought, * The Woods belonging to John Throckmorton, Esq. 3* JVilliam Cowper. They gathered close around the old Pit's brink ; And thought again — but knew not what to think! The man, to solitude accustomed long, Perceives in ev'rything that lives a tongue ! Not animals alone ; but shrubs and trees Have speech for him, and understood with ease ! After long drought, when rains abundant fall, He hears the herbs and flowers rejoicing all ; Knows what the freshness of their hue implies, How glad they catch the largess of the skies. But, with precision nicer still, the mind He scans of ev'ry locomotive kind ; Birds of all feather, beasts of ev'ry name, That serve Mankind, or shun them, wild or tame. The looks and gestures of their griefs and fears Have all articulation in his ears : He spells them true, by Intuition's light; And needs no Glossary to set him right. This truth premised was needful, as a Text, To win due credence to what follows next. Awhile they mused. Surveying ev'ry face, Thou hadst supposed them of superior race ! Their periwigs of wool, and fears combined, Stamped on each countenance such marks of mind, That sage they seemed, as Lawyers o'er a doubt, Which, puzzling long, at last they puzzle out; Or Academic Tutors teaching youths (Sure ne'er to want them !) mathematic truths ; 3a JVilliam Cowper. When thus a Mutton, statelier than the rest, A Ram, the Ewes and Wethers sad addressed : ' Friends ! We have lived too long ! I never heard Sounds such as these, so worthy to be feared! Could I believe that winds, for Ages pent In earth's dark womb, have found, at last, a vent; And from their prison-house below arise, With all these hideous bowlings, to the skies, I could be much composed ; nor should appear, For such a cause, to feel the slightest fear ! Yourselves have seen, what time the thunders rolled All night, me resting quiet in the fold ! Or heard we that tremendous bray alone, I could expound the melancholy tone! Should deem it by our old companion made, The Ass ! for he, we know, has lately strayed ; And being lost, perhaps, and wand'ring wide, Might be supposed to clamour for a guide. ' But, ah ! those dreadful yells what soul can hear, That owns a carcass, and not quake for fear ? Demons produce them, doubtless, brazen-clawed ; And fanged with brass the demons are abroad ! I hold it, therefore, wisest and most fit That, life to save, we leap into the Pit ! ' Him answered then his loving mate and true, But more discreet than he, a Cambrian Ewe. * How ? leap into the Pit, our life to save ? To save our life, leap all into the grave ? BRIT. ANTH. X. D 33 William Cowper. For can we find it less ? Contemplate first The depth, how awful ! Falling there, we burst ! Or should the brambles, interposed, our fall In part abate, that happiness were small ! For with a race like theirs, no chance I see Of peace or ease to creatures clad as we ! * Meanwhile, noise kills not ! Be it Dapple's bray Or be it not; or be it whose it may! And rush those other sounds (that seem by tongues Of demons uttered) from whatever lungs ; Sounds are but sounds! and, till the cause appear, We have at least commodious standing here ! Come fiend, come Fury, giant, monster, blast, From Earth, or Hell; we can but plunge at last!* While thus she spake, I fainter heard the peals ; For Reynard, close attended at his heels By panting dog, tired man, and spattered horse, Through mere good fortune, took a different course The flock grew calm again : and I, the road Following that led me to my own abode. Much wondered, that the silly sheep had found ' Such cause of terror in an empty sound So sweet to Huntsman, Gentleman, and hound. , Moral. Beware of desp'rate steps ! The darkest day, Live till to-morrow, will have passed away I 34 William Cowper. GRATITUDE. Addressed to Lady Hesketh. [1786:] This Cap, that so stately appears, With ribbon-bound tassel on high, Which seems, by the crest that it rears, Ambitious of brushing the sky : This Cap, to my Cousin I owe ! She gave it ; and gave me beside, Wreathed into an elegant bow, The ribbon with which it is tied. This wheel-footed studying Chair, Contrived both for toil and repose, Wide-elbowed, and wadded with hair, In which I both scribble and doze ; Bright-studded to dazzle the eyes, And rival in lustre of that In which, or Astronomy lies, Fair Cassiopeia sat: D 2 35 JVilliam Cowper. These Carpets, so soft to the foot, Caledonia's traffic and pride, O, spare them ! ye knights of the boot, Escaped from a cross-country ride ! This Table, and Mirror within. Secure from collision and dust, At which I oft shave cheek and chin, And periwig nicely adjust : This movable structure of Shelves, For its beauty admired and its use ; And charged with Octavos and Twelves, The gayest I had to produce! Where, flaming in scarlet and gold, My Poems, enchanted, I view ; And hope, in due time, to behold My Iliad and Odyssey too ; This China, that decks the Alcove, Which, here, people call a Buffet; But what the Gods call it above. Has ne'er been revealed to us yet : These Curtains, that keep the room warm. Or cool, as the season demands : These Stoves, that, for pattern and form. Seem the labour of Mulciber's hands: 36 Williain Cowper. All these are not half that I owe To One, from our earliest youth, To me ever ready to show Benignity, friendship, and truth ! For Time, the destroyer declared And foe of our perishing kind, If even her face he has spared ; Much less could he alter her mind! Thus, compassed about with the goods And chattels of leisure and ease, I indulge my poetical moods In many such fancies as these! And fancies, I fear, they will seem ! Poets' goods are not often so fine ; The Poets will swear, that I dream, When I sing of the splendour of mine ! TO MARY [UNWIND [Autumn of 1793.] The twentieth year is wellnigh past, Since first our sky was overcast ; Ah ! would that this might be the last ! My Mary! 37 IVilliam Cowper. Thy spirits have a fainter flow ! I see thee daily weaker grow! 'Twas my distress, that brought thee low! My Mary! Thy needles, once a shining store, For my sake restless heretofore, Now rust, disused, and shine no more ! My Mary! For though thou gladly wouldst fulfil The same kind office for me still. Thy sight now seconds not thy will ! My Mary ! But well thou play'dst the Housewife's part! And all thy threads, with magic art. Have wound themselves about this heart! My Mary! Thy indistinct expressions seem Like language uttered in a dream ; Yet me they charm, whate'er the theme! My Mary! Thy silver locks, once auburn bright, Are still more lovely in my sight Than golden beams of orient light! My Mary! 38 JVillimn Cowper. For could I view nor them, nor thee, What sight worth seeing could I see ? The sun would rise in vain for me ! My Mary! Partakers of thy sad decline, Thy hands their little force resign ; Yet gently pressed, press gently mine ! My Mary! Such feebleness of limbs thou prov'st. That now, at every step, thou mov'st Upheld by two ; yet still thou lov'st ! My Mary! And still to love, though pressed with ill, In wint'ry age to feel no chill, With me is to be lovely still ! My Mary! But, ah ! by constant heed I know, How oft the sadness that I show Transforms thy smiles to looks of woe! My Mary! And should my future lot be cast With much resemblance of the past, Thy worn-out heart will break at last! My Mary! 39 Rev. Thomas IVarton, B,D. ; P.L. To tinkling brooks, to twilight shades, To desert prospects rough and rude, With youthful rapture first I ran. Enamoured of sweet Solitude. On Beauty next I wondering gazed ; Too soon my supple heart was caught! An eye, a breast, a lip, a shape, Was all I talked of! all I thought! Next, by the smiling Muses led, On Pindus laurelled top I dream, Talk with old Bards, and listening hear The warblings of th' inchanting stream. Then Harmony and Picture came. Twin Nymphs, my sense to entertain ; By turns, my eye, my ear, was caught With Raphael's strokes, and Handel's strain. At last, such various pleasures proved All cloying I vain, unmanly found ! Sweet for a time, as morning dew; Yet parents of some painful wound! Humbly I asked great Wisdom's aid, To true delight to lead my feet; When thus the Goddess, whispering, said, 'Virtue alone is bliss complete!' 40 . Anonymous. BRITISH GRENADIERS. Some talk of Alexander, and some of Hercules ; Of CoNON, and Lysander, and some Miltiades ; But of all the World's brave heroes, there 's none that can compare With a tow, row, row, row, row, to the British Grenadiers. But of all the World's brave heroes, there 's none that can compare, &c. None of those ancient heroes e'er saw a cannon ball, Or knew the force of powder to slay their foes withal; But our brave boys do know it, and banish all their fears, With a tow, row, row, row, row, the British Grenadiers. But our brave boys do know it, and banish all their fears, &c. Whene'er we are commanded to storm the palisades. Our leaders march with fusees, and we with hand-grenades; We throw them from the Glacis about our enemies' ears, With a tow, row, row, row, row, the British Grenadiers. We throw them from the Glacis about our enemies' ears, &C. The God of War was pleased, and great Bellona smiles. To see these noble heroes of our British Isles ; And all the Gods celestial, descended from their Spheres, Behold with admiration the British Grenadiers. And all the Gods celestial, descended from their Spheres, &c. Then let us crown a bumper, and drink a Health to those Who carry caps and pouches, that wear the looped clothes ! May they, and their Commanders, live happy all their years ! With a tow, row, row, row, row, the British Grenadiers. May they, and their Commanders, live happy all their years ! &c. 41 Christopher Smart. SWEET WILLIAM. By a prattling stream, on a Midsummer's Eve, Where the woodbine and jess'mine their boughs interweave, • Fair Flora ! ' I cried, ' to my arbour repair ; For I must have a Chaplet for sweet William's hair!' She brought me the Vi'let that grows on the hill, The vale-dwelling Lily, and gilded Jonquil ; But such languid odours, how could I approve ? Just warm from the lips of the Lad that I love! She brought me, his faith and his truth to display, The undying Myrtle, and evergreen Bay ; But why these to me ? who've his constancy known ; And Billy has laurels enough of his own ! The next was a gift that I could not contemn, For she brought me two Roses that grew on a stem : Of the dear nuptial tie, they stood emblems confest ; So I kissed them, and pressed them quite close to my breast. She brought me a Sunflower, ' This, Fair One I 's your due ! For it once was a Maiden, and lovesick, like you ! * ♦ O, give it me quick ! to my Shepherd I'll run ! As true to hb flame as this flower to the sun!' THE LASS WITH THE GOLDEN LOCKS. No more of my Harriot I of Polly no more ! Nor all the bright Beauties that charmed me before ! My heart for a slave to gay Venus I've sold; And bartered my freedom for ringlets of gold ! I'll throw down my Pipe, and neglect all my flocks ; And will sing to my Lass of the Golden Locks! 4a Christopher Smart. Though o'er her white forehead the gilt tresses flow Like the rays of the sun on a hillock of snow — Such, painters of old drew the Queen of the Fair ! 'Tis the taste of the Ancients! 'tis classical hair! — And though Witlings may scoff, and though raillery mocks ; Yet ril sing to my Lass of the Golden Locks ! To live and to love, to converse and be free, Is loving, my Charmer ! and living with thee I Away go the hours in kissing and rhyme, Spite of all the grave lectures of old Father Time! A fig for his dials, his watches and clocks ! He 's best spent with the Lass of the Golden Locks ! Than the swan in the brook, she's more dear to my sight! Her mien is more stately ! her breast is more white ! Her sweet lips are rubies, all rubies above ! They are fit for the language, or labour, of Love I At the Park, in the Mall, at the Play in the Box; My Lass bears the bell with her Golden Locks I Her beautiful eyes, as they roll, or they flow. Shall be glad for my joy ; or shall weep for my woe ! She shall ease my fond heart, and shall soothe my soft pain ; While thousands of rivals are sighing in vain! Let them rail at the fruit they can't reach, like the fox ; ^hile I have the Lass with the Golden Locks ! 43 IViUiam Thornpso^t. A Book, a Friend, a Song, a Glass, A chaste, yet laughter-loving-, Lass, To mortals various joys impart, Inform the sense, and warm the heart! Thrice happy they who, careless laid Beneath a kind-embowering shade. With rosy wreaths their temples crown ! In rosy wine their sorrows drown ! Meanwhile, the Muses wake the lyre! The Graces, modest mirth inspire, Good-natured humour, harmless wit, Well-tempered joys, nor grave, nor light! Let sacred Venus, with her heir. And dear Ianthe too, be there I Music and Wine in concert move With Beauty and refining Love! There, Peace shall spread her dove-light wing; And bid her olives round us spring! There, Truth shall reign, a sacred guest I And Innocence, to crown the rest! Begone, Ambition, Riches, toys; And splendid Cares, and guilty Joys! Give me a Book, a Friend, a Glass, And a chaste laughter-loving Lass! 44 Bryan Edwards. ' Discard that frown upon your brow ! 'Tis you alone I love ! To witness this eternal vow, I'll call on mighty Jove!' *0, leave the God to soft repose!' The smiling Maid replies, *For Jove but laughs at Lovers' oaths And Lovers' perjuries!' * By honoured Beauty's gentle power ! By Friendship's holy flame ! ' • Ah ! what is Beauty ? but a flower I And Friendship ? but a name I ' ' By these dear tempting lips ! ' I cried— With arch enchanting look, 'Hold! I'll believe!' the Maid replied, ' But — you've not kissed the book ! ' 45 yohn O'Kee/e. A MO, amaSy I love a Lass, As a cedar tall and slender! Sweet cowslips' grace Is her Nom'tive Case ; And she 's of the Feminine Gender. Chorus. Rorum corum, sunt Divorum\ Harum scarum, Divo ! Tag rag, merry derry, periwig and hatband! HiCy hoCy horum Genitivo\ Can I decline A Nymph divine ? Her voice as a flute is dulcis\ Her oculi bright! Her manus white! And soft, when I tacio, her pulse is! Chorus. Rorum corum, sunt Divorum ! &c. O, how bella Is my Puella \ I'll kiss secula seculorum\ If I've luck, Sir! She 's my Uxor\ O, dies benedictorum ! Chorus. Rorum corum, sunt Divorum ' &c 46 John O'Keefe. FRIAR TUCK. I AM a Friar of Orders Gray ; And down the valleys I take my way! I pull not blackberry, haw, or hip ; Good store of venison does fill my scrip! My long bead-roll I merrily chant ; Wherever I walk, no money I want! And why I'm so plump, the reason I'll tell ; Who leads a good life, is sure to live well! What Baron, or Squire, Or Knight of the Shire, Lives half so well as a holy Friar? After supper, of Heaven I dream ; But that is fat pullen and clouted cream I Myself, by denial, I mortify With a dainty bit of a Warden Pie! I'm clothed in sackcloth, for my sin; With old Sack wine, I'm lined within! A chirping Cup is my Matin Song; And the Vesper's bell is my Bowl, ding dong! What Baron, or Squire, &c. 47 Anony^nous. There was an old man, and, though 'tis not common ; Yet if he said true, he was born of a woman ! And, though 'tis incredible ; yet I've been told, He was once a mere infant, but age made him old ! Whene'er he was hungry, he longed for some meat! And if he could get it, 'twas said, he would eat ! When thirsty, he'd drink ! if you gave him a pot ; And his liquor most commonly ran down his throat ! He seldom, or ever, could see without light ; And yet I've been told, he could hear in the night! He has oft been awake in the daytime, 'tis said ; And has fallen fast asleep, as he lay in his bed! 'Tis reported, his tongue always moved when he talked ; And he stirred both his arms and his legs when he walked ! His gait was so odd ; had you seen him, you'd burst I For one leg, or t'other, would always be first! His face was the oddest that ever was seen ; For if 'twere not washed, it was seldom quite clean ! He showed his teeth most, when he happened to grin ; And his mouth stood across 'twixt his nose and his chin ! . . . At last, he fell sick, as old Chronicles tell ; And then, as folks said, he was not very well ! But, what is more strange, in so weak a condition, As he could not give fees, he could get no Physician ! What a pity he died ! Yet, 'tis said, that his death Was occasioned, at last, by the want of his breath ! But peace to his bones ! which in ashes now moulder ; Had he lived a day longer, he'd been a day older! 48 Anonymous. Ye little Loves ! that round her wait To bring me tidings of my fate, As Celia on her pillow lies, Ah ! gently whisper, ' Strephon dies ! * If this will not her pity move, And the proud Fair disdains to love, Smile, and say, ' 'Tis all a lie ! And haughty Strephon scorns to die ! ' For various purpose serves the Fan ; As thus, a decent blind, Between the sticks, to peep at Man ; Nor yet betray your mind. Each action has a meaning plain ; Resentment 's in the Snap ! A Flirt expresses strong disdain! Consent, a gentle Tap ! All Passions will the Fan disclose, All modes of female art ; And sweetly to advantage shows The hand — if not the heart ! 'Tis Folly's sceptre, first designed By Love's capricious Boy ; Who knows how lightly all Mankind Are governed by a toy ! BRIT. ANTH. X. E 49 Frhice Hoare. THE SAUCY A RE TH USA. Come, all ye jolly Sailors bold, Whose hearts are cast in Honour's mould, While English glory I unfold, Huzza to the Arethusa\ She is a Frigate tight and brave, ? As ever stemmed the dashing wave ! Her men are staunch To their fav'rite launch ; And when the foe shall meet our fire, Sooner than strike, we'll all expire On board of the Arethusa ! 'Twas with the Spring Fleet she went out. The English Channel to cruise about, When four French Sail, in show so stout. Bore down on the Arethusa. The famed Belle Poule straight ahead did lie: The Arethusa seemed to fly; Not a sheet, or a tack, ^ Or a brace, did she slack.' 11 Though the Frenchmen laughed, and thought it stuff; But they knew not the handful of men, how tough. On board of the Arethusa. 50 Prince Hoare. On deck five hundred men did dance, The stoutest they could find in France: We, with two hundred, did advance On board of the Arethusa. Our Captain hailed the Frenchman, ' Ho ! ' The Frenchmen then cried out, 'Hallo!' * Bear down, d'ye see ! To our Admiral's lee!* 'No I No ! ' says the Frenchman, ' that can't be I ' ' Then I must lug you along with me ! ' Says the saucy Arethusa. The fight was off the Frenchman's land. We forced them back upon their strand; For we fought till not a stick would stand Of the gallant Arethusa. And now we've driven the foe ashore, Never to fight with Britons more; Let each fill a glass To his favourite Lass! A Health to our Captain, and Officers true, And all that belong to the jovial crew On board of the Arethusal E 2 51 Anonymous, You know that our ancient Philosophers hold There is nothing in Beauty! or Honour! or Gold! That bliss in externals no mortal can find I And, in truth, my good friends ! I am quite of their mind! What makes a man happy, I never can doubt, 'Tis something within him, and nothing without! This something, they said, ' was the source of Content ! * And, whatever they called it, 'twas Wine that they meant! Without us, indeed, it is not worth a pin? But, ye Gods ! how divine, if we get it within ! 'Tis, then, of all blessings the flourishing root ; And, in spite of the World, we can gather the fruit! When the Bottle is wanting, the soul is deprest : And Beauty can kindle no flame in the breast ! But with Wine in our hearts, we are always in love We can sing like the linnet, and bill like the dove The richest and Greatest are poor and repine. If, with gold and with grandeur, you give them no Wine But Wine, to the peasant, or slave, if you bring ; He 's as rich as a Jew, and as great as a King! With Wine at my heart, I am happy and free! Externals, without it, are nothing to me! Come, fill ! and this truth from a bumper you'll know, That Wine is, of blessings, the blessing below ! 53 — Robert Burns. GREEN GROW THE RASHES, A Fragment. lORus. Green grow the rashes, O ! Green grow the rashes, O ! The sweetest hours that e'er I spend, Are spent among the Lasses, O ! There 's nought but care on ev'ry han', In ev'ry hour that passes, O ! What signifies the life o' Man, An' 'twere na for the Lasses, O ! Green grow the rashes, O ! &c. The warly race may riches chase, An' riches still may fly them, O ! An' tho', at last, they catch them fast, Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them, O! Green grow the rashes, O ! &c. But gie me a canny hour, at e'en, My arms about my Dearie, O ! An' warly cares, an' warly men, May a' gae tapsalteerie, O ! Green grow the rashes, O ! &c. 53 Robert Burns. For you sae douse, ye sneer at this, Ye're nought but senseless asses, O ! The wisest man the warl' [e'er] saw, He dearly lov'd the Lasses, O ! Green grow the rashes, O ! &c. Auld Nature swears, the lovely Dears Her noblest work she classes, O ! Her prentice han' she try'd on Man; An' then she made the Lasses, O ! Green grow the rashes, O ! &c. TO A MOUSE, ON TURNING HER UP IN HER NEST, WITH THE PLOUGH, NoVEMBER, 1785. Wee, sleeket, cowran, tim'rous beastie, O, what a panic 's in thy breastie ! Thou need na start awa sae hasty, Wi' bickering brattle! I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee, Wi' murd'ring pattle! 54 ROBERT BURNS. Robert Burns. I'm truly sorry Man's dominion Has broken Nature's social union; An' justifies that ill opinion, Which makes thee startle At me, thy poor, earth-born companion, An' fellow-mortal ! I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve! What then ? Poor beastie, thou maun live A daimen-icker in a thrave 'S a sma' request! I'll get a blessin wi' the lave; An' never miss 't! Thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruinf Its silly wa's the win's are strewin ! An naething, now, to big a new ane ^' ^ogg^S^^ green ! An' bleak December's winds ensuin, Baith snell an' keen! Thou saw the fields laid bare an' wast, An' weary Winter comin fast, An' cozie here, beneath the blast. Thou thought to dwell — Till, crash ! the cruel coulter past Out-thro' thy cell. 55 Robert Burns. That wee-bit heap o* leaves an' stibble Has cost thee monie a weary nibble! Now thou 's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble, But house or hald, To thole the Winter's sleety dribble An' cranreuch cauld! But, Mousie ! thou art no thy lane In proving foresight may be vain ! The best laid schemes o' Mice and Men Gang aft agley! An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain, For promis'd joy! Still, thou art blest, compar'd wi' me! The Present only toucheth thee ! But, och I I backward cast my e'e On prospects drear! An* forward, tho' I canna see, I guess an' fear! 56 Robert Burns. MARY MORI SON. O, Mary! at thy window be! It is the wish'd, the trysted hour! Those smiles and glances let me see, That make the miser's treasure poor! How blythly wad I bide the stoure, A weary slave frae sun to sun, Could I the rich reward secure, The lovely Mary Morison! Yestreen, when, to the trembling string. The dance gaed thro' the lighted ha*, To thee my fancy took its wing ; I sat, but neither heard [n]or saw ! Tho' this was fair, and that was braw, And yon the Toast of a' the town; I sigh'd, and said amang them a', 'Ye are na Mary Morison!' O, Mary ! canst thou wreck his peace, Wha for thy sake wad gladly die ? Or canst thou break that heart of his, Whase only faut is loving thee ? If love for love thou wilt na gie. At least, be pity to me shown ! A thought ungentle canna be The thought o' Mary Morison! 57 Robert Burns. TAM GLEN, ' My heart is a breaking, dear Tittie I Some counsel unto me come len'l To anger them a' is a pity; But what will I do wi' Tam Glen? ' I'm thinking, wi' sic a braw fellow, In poortith I might mak a fen! What care I, in riches to wallow, If I mauna marry Tam Glen ! * There 's Lowrie, the Laird o' Dumeller, '* Gude day to you ! " Brute ! he comes ben ; He brags and he blaws o' his filler ; But when will he dance like Tam Glen ? * My Minnie does constantly deave me, And bids me beware o' young men ! " They flatter," she says, " to deceive me ! " But wha can think sae o' Tam Glen ? •My Daddie says, "Gin I'll forsake him, He'll gie me gude hunder marks ten." But, if it 's ordain'd I maun take him, O, wha will I get but Tam Glen ? •Yestreen, at the Valentines' dealing, My heart to my mou gied a sten ! For, thrice. I drew ane without failing ; And, thrice, it was written, Tam Glen! 58 Robert Burns. * The last Halloween, I was waukin My droukit sark-sleeve, as ye ken ! His likeness cam up the house staukin, And the very grey breeks o' Tam Glen ! * Come, counsel, dear Tittie ! don't tarry ! I'll gie you my bonie black hen, Gif ye will advise me to marry The Lad I lo'e dearly, Tam Glen!* THE BANKS G DOQN. Third Version. Ye banks and braes o' bonie Doon, How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair ? How can ye chant, ye little birds ? And I sae weary, fu' o' care ! Thou'U break my heart ! thou warbling bird, That wantons thro' the flowering thorn ! Thou minds me o' departed joys, Departed, never to return! Oft hae I rovd by bonie Doon, To see the rose and woodbine twine; And ilka bird sang o' its Luve, And fondly sae did I o' mine ! Wi' lightsome heart, I pu'd a rose, Fu sweet upon its thorny tree ; And my fause Luver staw my rose, But, ah I he left the thorn wi' me ! 59 Robert Burns. FOR A' THAT, AND A' THAT. Is there, for honest Poverty, That hangs his head, and a' that; The coward slave — we pass him by! We dare be poor for a* that! For a' that, and a' that, Our toils obscure, and a' that! The rank is but the Guinea's stamp; The Man 's the gowd for a that! What though on hamely fare we dine, Wear hoddin gray, and a' that; Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine, A Man 's a Man for a' that! For a that, and a' that, Their tinsel show, and a* that! The honest man, though e'er sae poor, Is King o' men for a' that! 60 Robert Burns. Ye see yon birkie, ca'd a Lord, Wha struts, an' stares, and a' that ; Though hundreds worship at his word, He 's but a coof for a' that! For a' that, and a' that, His ribband. Star, and a' that! The man of independent mind, He looks and laughs at a' that! A Prince can mak a belted Knight, A Marquis, Duke, and a' that ; But an honest man 's aboon his mio;ht! Gude faith ! he mauna fa that ! For a that, and a' that, Their dignities, and a' that! The pith o' Sense, and pride o' Worth, Are higher ranks than a' that! Then, let us pray, that come it may (As come it will for a that!), That Sense and Worth, o'er a the earth, May bear the gree, and a' that! For a' that, and a' that. It 's comin yet for a' that, That Man to Man, the warld o'er, Shall brothers be for a' that! 6i Robert Burns. MY COLLIER LADDIE, Whare live ye ? my bonie Lass ! And tell me, what they ca' ye ? ' My name,' she says, 'is Mistress Jean; And I follow the Collier Laddie ! ' ' My name,' she says, ' is Mistress Jean,' &c. ' See you not yon hills and dales, The sun shines on sae brawlie ! They a' are mine ; and they shall be thine, Gin ye'll leave your Collier Laddie. They a' are mine ; and they shall be thine,' &c. 'Ye shall gang in gay attire, Weel buskit up sae gaudy ; And ane to wait on every hand, Gin ye'll leave your Collier Laddie. And ane to wait on every hand,* &c. 'Tho' ye had a' the sun shines on, And the earth conceals sae lowly ; I wad turn my back on you and it a', And embrace my Collier Laddie ! I wad turn my back on you and it a ,' &c. 6a Robert Burns. * I can win my five pennies in a day, An' spen 't at night fu' brawlie! And make my bed in the Collier's neuk, And lie down wi' my Collier Laddie ! And make my bed in the Collier's neuk/ &c. ' Love for Love is the bargain for me ; Tho' the wee cot-house should haud me ! And the warld before me, to win my bread ; And fair fa my Collier Laddie ! And the warld before me, to win my bread ; ' &c TI/B TEAR-DROP, Wae is my heart, and the tear 's in my e'e! Lang, lang Joy 's been a stranger to me! Forsaken and friendless, my burden I bear ; And the sweet voice o' Pity ne'er sounds in my ear ! Love ! thou hast pleasures ; and deep hae I loved ! Love ! thou hast sorrows ; and sair hae I proved ! But this bruised heart, that now bleeds in my breast, I can feel, by its throbbings, will soon be at rest! O, if I were (where happy I hae been!) Down by yon stream, and yon bonie Castle Green! For there he is wand' ring, and musing on me, Wha wad soon dry the tear frae his Phillis's e'e ! 63 Robert Burns, TH£ LADDIE'S DEAR SEL\ [There 's a Youth in this city, it were a great pity That he from our Lasses should wander awa!] For he s bony and braw, weel-favour'd with a', And his hair has a natural buckle and a'. His coat is the hue of his bonnet sae blue; His fecket is white as the new-driven snaw; His hose, they are blae, and his shoon like the slae, And his clear siller buckles, they dazzle us a' ! For Beauty and Fortune the Laddie 's been courtin ; Weel-featur'd, weel-tocher'd, weel-mounted an' braw ; But chiefly the siller, that gars him gang till her. The Penny 's the jewel that beautifies a' ! There 's Meg wi' the mailin, that fain wad a haen him ; And Susan, whase Daddie was Laird o' the Ha'! There 's lang-tocher'd Nancy maist fetters his fancy : But th' Laddie's dear sel', he lo'es dearest of a' ! 6* Robert Burns. LADY MARY ANN. O, Lady Mary Ann looks o'er the Castle wa', She saw three bonie boys playing at the ba' ; • The youngest, he was the flower amang them a'. * My bonie Laddie 's young ; but he 's growin yet ! ' ' O, father ! O, father ! an ye think it fit, We'll send him a year to the College yet ! We'll sew a green ribban round about his hat ; And that will let them ken, he 's to marry yet!' Lady Mary Ann was a flower in the dew, Sweet was its smell, and bonie was its hue ; And the langer it blossom'd, the sweeter it grew! For the lily in the bud will be bonier yet ! Young Charlie Cochran was the sprout of an aik, Bonie, and bloomin, and straught was its make ; The sun took delight to shine for its sake, And it will be the brag o' the forest yet ! * The Summer is gane,when the leaves they were green ; And the days are awa', that we hae seen ! But far better days, I trust will come again; [yet!' For my bonie Laddie 's young ; but he 's growin BRIT. ANTH. X. F 65 Robert Burns. THE COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT. Inscribed to R. A[iken\ Esq. Let not Ambition mock their useful toil, . Their homely joys, and destiny obscure ! I Nor Grandeur hear, with a disdainful smile, The short and simple Annals of the Poor ! Gray. My lov'd, my honor'd, much respected friend! No mercenary Bard his homage pays ; With honest pride, I scorn each selfish end ! My dearest meed, a friend's esteem and praise To you I sing, in simple Scottish Lays, The lowly Train in Life's sequester'd scene, The native feelings strong, the guileless ways ! - What A[iken], in a Cottage would have been ! Ah ! tho' his worth unknown, far happier there, I ween ! 66 Robert Burns. November chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh, The short'ning Winter day is near a close, The miry beasts retreating frae the pleugh, The black'ning trains o' craws to their repose ; The toil-worn Cotter frae his labor goes, This night his weekly moil is at an end, Collects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoes, Hoping the morn in ease and rest to spend ; And weary, o'er the moor, his course does hameward bend. At length, his lonely Cot appears in view. Beneath the shelter of an aged tree ; Th' expectant wee-things, toddlan, stacher through To meet their Dad, wi' flichterin noise and glee. His wee-bit ingle blinkan bonilie, B His clean hearth-stane, his thrifty Wifie's smile. ■ The lisping infant prattling on his knee. Does a' his weary kiaugh and care beguile ; And makes him quite forget his labor and his toil. Belyve, the elder Bairns come drapping in. At service out, amang the Farmers roun' ; Some ca' the pleugh, some herd, some tentie rin A cannie errand to a neebor town. ^^ Their eldest hope, their Jenny, woman-grown, ^B In youthfu' bloom, love sparkling in her e'e, ^P Comes hame ; perhaps, to shew a braw-new gown, K Or deposite her sair-won penny-fee, l^o help her Parents dear, if they in hardship be. F 2 67 Robert Biirns. With joy imfeign'd, Brothers and Sisters meet ; And each for other's welfare kindly spiers : The social hours, swift-wing'd, unnotic'd fleet ; Each tells the uncos that he sees or hears. The Parents partial eye their hopeful years ! Anticipation forward points the view ! The Mother, wi' her needle and her sheers, Gars auld claes look amaist as well 's the new ; The Father mixes a' wi' admonition due. Their Master's, and their Mistress's, command, The younkers a' are warned to obey ; And mind their labors wi' an eydent hand, And ne'er, tho' out o' sight, to jauk or play! * And, O, be sure to fear the Lord alway ; And mind your duty, duly, morn and night! Lest, in temptation's path, ye gang astray. Implore His counsel and assisting might! They never sought in vain, that sought the Lord aright! ' But, hark! a rap comes gently to the door. Jenny, wha kens the meaning o' the same. Tells how a neebor Lad came o'er the moor To do some errands, and convoy her hame. The wily Mother sees the conscious flame Sparkle in Jenny's e'e, and flush her cheek. With heart-struck anxious care, enquires his name. While Jenny hafflins is afraid to speak ; Weel-pleas'd the Mother hears, it 's nae wild, worth- less Rake. 68 Robert Burns. Wi' kindly welcome, Jenny brings him ben ; A strappan' Youth, he takes the Mother's eye : Blythe Jenny sees the visit 's no ill ta'en ; The Father cracks of horses, pleughs, and kye. The Youngster's artless heart o'erflows wi' joy ; But, blate and laithfu', scarce can weel behave. The Mother, wi' a woman's wiles, can spy What makes the Youth sae bashfu' and sae grave ; [lave. Weel-pleas'd to think her bairn 's respected like the O, happy love ! where love like this is found ! O, heart-felt raptures ! bliss beyond compare ! I've paced much this weary, mortal round ; And sage experience bids me this declare. ' If Heaven, a draught of heavenly pleasure spare, One cordial in this melancholy Vale, 'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair, In other's arms, breathe out the tender tale, Beneath the milk-white thorn, that scents the evening gale.' Is there, in human form, that bears a heart, A wretch ! a villain ! lost to love and truth ! That can, with studied, sly, ensnaring art. Betray sweet Jenny's unsuspecting youth ? Curse on his perjur'd arts! dissembling, smooth! Are Honor, Virtue, Conscience, all exil'd ? Is there no Pity, no relenting Ruth, Points to the Parents fondling o'er their child ? Then paints the ruin'd Maid, and their distraction wild ? 69 Robert Burns. But, now, the Supper crowns their simple board, The healsome porritch, chief of Scotia's food ! The soupe, their only hawkie does afford, That 'yont the hallan snugly chows her cood. The Dame brings forth, in complimcntal mood, To grace the Lad, her weel-hain'd kebbuck fell ; And, aft he 's prest, and aft he ca's it guid, The frugal Wifie, garrulous, will tell How 'twas a towmond auld, sin' lint was i' the bell. The chearfu' Supper done, wi* serious face, They, round the ingle, form a circle wide ; The Sire turns o'er, with patriarchal grace, The big Ha' Bible, ance his father's pride : His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside, His lyart haffets wearing thin and bare; Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide. He wales a portion, with judicious care. And ' Let us worship GOD ! ' he says with solemn Air. They chant their artless notes, in simple guise ; They tune their hearts, by far the noblest aim! Perhaps, Dundee^ wild-warbling measures rise. Or plaintive Martyrs, worthy of the name ! Or noble Elgin beets the heaven-ward flame, The sweetest far of Scotia's holy Lays ! Compared with these, Italian trills are tame ! The tickl'd ears no heart-felt raptures raise! Nae unison hae they with our Creator's praise! 70 Robert Burns. The priest-like Father reads the sacred page, How Abram was the Friend of GOD on high ; Or Moses bade eternal warfare wage With Amalek's ungracious progeny ; Or how the royal Bard did groaning lie Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging ire ; Or Job's pathetic plaint and wailing cry; Or rapt Isaiah's wild, seraphic fire ; Or other holy Seers that tune the sacred lyre. Perhaps, the Christian Volume is the theme : How guiltless blood for guilty Man was shed ; How He, who bore in Heaven the second name, Had not on earth whereon to lay His head; How His first followers and servants sped; The precepts sage they wrote to many a land ; How he, who lone in Patmos banished, Saw in the sun a mighty Angel stand, And heard great Bab'lon's doom pronounc'd by Heaven's command. Then, kneeling down to Heaven's Eternal King, The Saint, the Father, and the Husband prays. Hope 'springs exulting on triumphant wing^' That thus they all shall meet in future days! There, ever bask in uncreated rays, Pope's Windsor Forest. 71 Robert Burns. No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear ; Togetlier hymning their Creator's praise, In such society, yet still more dear; While circling Time moves round in an eternal sphere. Compar'd with this, how poor Religion's pride, In all the pomp of Method and of Art! When men display to congregations wide Devotion's ev'ry grace, except the heart! The Power, incens'd, the pageant will desert. The pompous strain, the sacerdotal stole ; But, haply, in some Cottage far apart, May hear, well-pleas'd, the language of the soul ; And in His Book of Life, the inmates poor enroll ! Then homeward all take off their sev'ral way; The youngling Cottagers retire to rest. The Parent pair, their secret homage pay: And proffer up to Heaven the warm request, That He, who stills the raven's clam'rous nest, And decks the lily fair in flow'ry pride, Would, in the way His wisdom sees the best, For them, and for their little ones provide! But, chiefly, in their hearts with grace divine preside ! From scenes like these, old Scotia's grandeur springs, That makes her lov'd at home, rever'd abroad ! Princes and Lords are but the breath of Kings! * An honest man 's the noble[st] work of GOD ! ' 72 Robert Burns. And, certes, in fair Virtue's heavenly road. The Cottage leaves the Palace far behind! What is a Lordling's pomp ? A cumbrous load ; Disguising, oft, the wretch of human kind! Studied in arts of Hell! in wickedness refin'd! O, Scotia ! my dear, my native soil ! For whom my warmest wish to Heaven is sent! Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content ! And, O, may Heaven their simple lives prevent From Luxury's contagion, weak and vile ! Then, howe'er Crowns and Coronets be rent, A virtuous Populace may rise the while ; And stand, a wall of fire, around their much-loved Isle ! O, Thou ! who pour'd the patriotic tide, That stream'd thro' great, unhappy Wallace's heart ; Who dared to nobly stem tyrannic pride ; Or nobly die, the second glorious part ! (The Patriot's GOD peculiarly Thou art ! His friend, inspirer, guardian, and reward!) O, never, never Scotia's realm desert ! But still the Patriot, and the Patriot Bard, In bright succession, raise, her ornament and guard! 73 I Robert Burns. O, WHISTLE, AND I'LL COME TO YOU, MY LAD! Chorus. O, whistle, and I'll come to you, my Lad ! O, whisde, and I'll come to you, my Lad ! Tho' father and mother and a* should gae mad, O, whistle, and I'll come to you, my Lad I But warily tent, when ye come to court me ; And come na, unless the back-yett be a-jee ! Syne, up the back-style, and let naebody see; And come, as ye were na coming to me ! And come, as ye were na coming to me ! O, whistle, and I'll come to you, my Lad ! &c. At Kirk, or at Market, w^hene'er ye meet me, Gang by me, as tho' that ye card nae a flie! But steal me a blink o' your bonie black e'e ; Yet look, as ye were na lookin at me ! Yet look, as ye were na lookin at me! O, whistle, and I'll come to you, my Lad ! &c. Ay vow and protest that ye carena for me! And, whyles, ye may lightly my beauty a wee; But court nae anither, tho' joking ye be, For fear that she wyle your fancy frae me! For fear that she wyle your fancy frae me! O, whistle, and I'll come to you, my Lad ! &c. 74 Robert Burns. \ HERE '5 A HEALTH TO ANE I LGE DEAR! Chorus. Here 's a Health to ane I lo'e dear! Here 's a Health to ane I lo'e dear! Thou art sweet as the smile when fond Lovers meet, And soft as their parting tear! Jessy! Altho' thou maun never be mine, Altho' even hope is denied ; 'Tis sweeter for thee despairing. Than aught in the world beside! Jessy! I mourn through the gay, gaudy day, As, hopeless, I muse on thy charms ; But welcome the dream o' sweet slumber, For then I am lock'd in thy arms! Jessy! Here 's a Health to ane I lo'e dear! &c. [I guess, by the dear angel smile! I guess, by the love-rolling e'e ! But why urge the tender confession, 'Gainst Fortune's fell, cruel decree? Jessy! Here 's a Health to ane I lo'e dear! &c.l 75 I Robert Burns. AULD LANG SYNE. Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to mind ? Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And auld lang syne ? Chorus. For auld lang syne, my jo ! For auld lang syne, We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet, For auld lang syne ! And, surely, ye'll be your pint stowp And, surely, I'll be mine! And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet, F"or auld lang syne ! For auld lang syne, my jo ! &c. We twa hae run about the braes, And pou'd the gowans fine ; But we've wandered mony a weary fitt Sin auld lang syne ! For auld lang syne, my jo ! &c. 76 Robert Burns. We twa hae paidl'd in the burn Frae morninof sun till dine ; But seas between us braid hae roared Sin auld lang syne ! For auld lang syne, my jo ! &c. And there 's a hand, my trusty fiere ! And gie 's a hand o' thine ! And we'll tak a right gude-willie waught For auld lang syne! For auld lang syne, my jo ! &c. TO A MOUNTAIN DAISY, ON TURNING ONE DOWN WITH THE PLOUGH, IN April, 1786. Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flow'r, Thou 's met me in an evil hour ! For I maun crush, amang the stoure, Thy slender stem! To spare thee now is past my pow'r, Thou bonie gem ! 77 Robert Burns. Alas! it 's no thy neebor sweet, The bonie Lark, companion meet, Bending thee, 'mang the dewy weet, Wi s spreckl'd breast! When upward-springing, blythe, to greet The purpling East. Cauld blew the bitter-biting North Upon thy early, humble birth ; Yet chearfully thou glinted forth Amid the storm ; Scarce rear'd above the parent-earth Thy tender form. The flaunting flowVs our gardens yield, High-shelt'ring woods and was maun shield! But thou, beneath the random bield O' clod or stane, Adorns the histie stibble-field, Unseen ! alane I There, in thy scanty mantle clad, Thy snawie bosom sun-ward spread, Thou lifts thy unassuming head In humble guise ! But now the share uptears thy bed, And low thou lies! 78 Robert Burns. Such is the fate of artless Maid, Sweet flow'ret of the rural shade ! By love's simplicity betray'd, And guileless trust, Till she, like thee, all soil'd, is laid Low i' the dust. Such is the fate of simple Bard, On Life's rough ocean luckless starr'd! Unskilful he to note the Card Of prudent lore, Till billows rage, and gales blow hard, And whelm him o'er! Such fate to suffering Worth is giv'n. Who long: with wants and woes has striv'n, By human pride or cunning driv'n To Mis'ry's brink, Till, wrench'd of ev'ry sta,y but Heav'n, He, ruin'd, sink! Ev'n thou who mourn'st the Daisy's fate, That fate is thine I no distant date ! Stern Ruin's ploughshare drives elate Full on thy bloom, Till crush 'd beneath the furrow's weight. Shall be thy doom! 79 Robert Burns. I LOVE MY JEAN ! Of a' the airts the wind can blaw, I dearly hke the West! For there the bony Lassie lives, The Lassie I lo'e best! There wild woods grow, and rivers row, And mony a hill between ; But, day and night, my fancy's flight Is ever wi' my Jean! I see her in the dewy flowers, I see her sweet and fair! I hear her in the tunefu' birds, I hear her charm the air! There 's not a bony flower that springs By fountain, shaw, or green ; There 's not a bony bird that sings. But minds me o' my Jean! 80 Robert Burns. CONTENTED WP LITTLE, AND CANTY IVI' MAIR. Contented wi' little, and canty wi' mair, Whene'er I forgather wi' Sorrow and Care, I gi'e them a skelp, as they're creeping alang, Wi' a cog o' gude ale and an auld Scottish Sang! I. whyles, claw the elbow o' troublesome Thought; But Man is a soldier, and Life is a faught! My mirth and good humour are coin in my pouch ; And my Freedom 's my Lairdship nae Monarch dare touch ! A towmond o' trouble, should that be my fa', A night o' gude fellowship sowthers it a' ! When at the blythe end of our journey at last, Wha the De'il ever thinks o' the road he has past? Blind Chance! let her snapper and stoyte on her way! Be 't to me, be't frae me, e'en let the Jade gae ! Come Ease, or come Travail ! come Pleasure, or Pain ! My warst word is, ' Welcome ! and welcome again ! ' UT. ANTH. 3C. 8i Robert Burns. O, SAW YE BONIE LESLEY. O, SAW ye bonie Lesley, As she gaed o'er the Border ? She 's gane, like Alexander, To spread her conquests farther! To see her is to love her, And love but her for ever! For Nature made her what she is, And ne'er made sic anither! Thou art a Queen, fair Lesley! Thy subjects, we before thee! Thou art divine, fair Lesley ! The hearts of men adore thee ! The De'il, he cou'dna skaithe thee, Or aught that wad belang thee ! He'd look into thy bonie face, And say, * I canna wrang thee ! * The Powers aboon will tent thee! Misfortune sha'na steer thee! Thou'rt, like themsels, sae lovely, That ill they'll ne'er let near thee I Return again, fair Lesley ! Return to Caledonie ! That we may brag, we hae a Lass There 's nane again sae bonie! 82 Robert Bttrnt THE FALL OF THE LEAF. The lazy mist hangs from the brow of the hill, Concealing the course of the dark winding rill ; How languid the scenes, late so sprightly, appear, As Autumn to Winter resigns the pale Year! The forests are leafless, the meadows are brown, And all the gay foppery of Summer is flown! Apart, let me wander! apart, let me muse. How quick Time is flying! how keen Fate pursues How long I have liv'd ; but how much liv'd in vain ! How little of Life's scanty span may remain ! What aspects old Time, in his progress, has worn! What ties, cruel Fate, in my bosom, has torn! How foolish, or worse, till our summit is gain'd! And downward, how weaken'd ! how darken'd ! how pain'd ! Life is not worth having, with all it can give! For something beyond it, poor Man, sure, must live ! G 2 83 Robert Bums. ROBERT BRUCE' S ADDRESS TO HIS ARMY AT BANNOCKBURN. Scots, wha ha'e wi' Wallace bled, Scots, wham Bruce has aften led, Welcome to your gory bed. Or to glorious victory ! Now 's the day, and now s the hour! See the front of battle lour ! See approach proud Edward's power! Edward, chains, and slavery! Wha will be a traitor knave ? Wha can fill a coward's grave ? Wha sae base as be a slave ? Traitor ! coward ! turn and flee ! Wha, for Scotland's King and Law, Freedom's sword will strongly draw, Free man stand, or free man fa', Caledonian ! on wi' me ! By Oppression's woes and pains! By your sons in servile chains! We will drain our dearest veins, But they shall be, shall be free! 84 Robert Btirns. Lay the proud usurpers low! Tyrants fall in every foe ! Liberty 's in every blow! Forward! Let us do, or die A LASS Wr A TOCHER. Awa' wi' your witchcraft o' Beauty's alarms ! The slender bit Beauty you grasp in your arms ! O, gi'e me the Lass that has acres o' charms ! O, ori'e me the Lass wi' the weel-stockit farms ' Chorus. Then hey, for a Lass wi' a tocher ! Then hey, for a Lass wi' a tocher! Then hey, for a Lass wi' a tocher! The nice yellow guineas for me 1 Your Beauty 's a flower, in the morning that blows ; And withers the faster, the faster it grows ! But the rapturous charm o' the bonie green knowes, Ilk Spring they're new deckit wi' bonie white yewes! Then hey, for a Lass wi' a tocher! &c. And e'en when this Beauty your bosom has blest, The brightest o' Beauty may cloy when possest! But the sweet yellow darlings, wi' Geordie imprest, The langer ye ha'e them, the mair they're carest ! Then hey, for a Lass wi' a tocher ! &c. 85 Robert Burns. THE BRAW WOOER. Last May, a braw Wooer cam' clown the Lang Glen ; And sair, wi' his love, he did deave me ! I said, * There was naething I hated, like men ! ' The Deuce sfae wi' him, to believe me ! believe me ! The Deuce gae wi' him, to believe me ! He spak o' the darts in my bonie black e'en ; And vow'd for my love he was dying! I said, 'He might die when he liked, for Jean!' The Lord forgi'e me for lying ! for lying ! The Lord forgi'e me for lying ! A weel stocked mailin, himsel' for the Laird, And marriage aff-hand, were his proffers. I never loot on, that I kenn'd it, or card ; But thought, I might hae waur offers ! waur offers ! But thought, I might hae waur offers! But what wad ye think? In a fortnight or less (The De'il tak' his taste, to gae near her !), He up the Lang Loan to my black Cousin, Bess. Guess ye how, the J ad! I could bear her! could bear her ! Guess ye how, the Jad ! I could bear her! 86 Robert Burns. But, a' the niest week, as I petted with care, I gaed to the tryste o' Dalgarnock ; And wha but my fine fickle Lover was there ! I glowr'd as I'd seen a Warlock ! a Warlock I elowr'd as I'd seen a Warlock! fc> f But owre my left shouther, I ga'e him a blink, Lest neebours might say I was saucy ; My Wooer, he caper'd as he'd been in drink ; And vow'd I was his dear Lassie ! dear Lassie And vow'd I was his dear Lassie ! I spier'd for my Cousin fu' couthy and sweet, If she had recover'd her hearing ? And how her new shoon fit her auld shachl't feet ? But, heavens ! how he fell a-swearing ! a-swearing ! But, heavens ! how he fell a-swearing ! He begged, for Gude sake! I wad be his Wife! Or else I wad kill him wi' sorrow : So, e'en to preserve the poor body in life, I think, I maun wed him to-morrow! to-morrow! I think, I maun wed him to-morrow! 87 Robert Burns. JOHN ANDERSON, A/V JO! John Anderson, my jo! John! When we were first acquent, Your locks were like the raven, Your bony brow was brent ; But now your brow is beld, John! Your locks are like the snaw; But blessings on your frosty pow, John Anderson, my jo ! John Anderson, my jo ! John! We clamb the hill the gither; And mony a canty day, John! We've had wi' ane anither! Now we maun totter down, John! And hand in hand we'll go ; And sleep the gither at the foot, John Anderson, my jo! 88 Anonymous. O, MY LOVE 'S LIKE THE RED, RED ROSE. O, MY Love 's like the red, red rose, That 's newly sprung in June! My Love 's like the melodie That 's sweetly play'd in tune ! As fair art thou, my bonie Lass ! So deep in love am I ! And I can love thee still, my Dear ! Till a the seas gang dry ! As fair art thou, my bonie Lass ! &c. Till a' the seas gang dry, my Dear! And the rocks melt with the sun ! [And] I will love thee still, my Dear! While the sands o' life shall run! And fare thee well, my only Love ! O, fare thee well a little while! And I will come again, my Love! Tho' 'twere ten thousand mile! And fare thee well, my only Love ! &c. 89 Charles Dibdiv. REEF'S SONG TO POLLY. • Blow high ! blow low ! let tempest tear The mainmast by the board! My heart (with thoughts of thee, my Dear! And love well stored) Shall brave all danger ! scorn all fear ! The roaring wind ! the raging sea ! In hopes, on shore, To be once more Safe moored with thee. 'Aloft, while mountains high we go. The whistling winds that scud along, And the surge roaring from below, Shall my signal be To think on thee ! And this shall be my Song, Blow high I blow low ! let tempest tear, &c. 'And on that night (when all the crew, The mem'ry of their former lives, O'er flowing Cans of Flip renew; And drink their Sweethearts and their Wives), I'll heave a sigh. And think of thee ! And, as the ship rolls through the sea, The burden of my Song shall be. Blow high ! blow low ! let tempest tear,' &c. 90 Charles Dibdin, TOM BOWLING'S EPITAPH. Here, a sheer hulk, Hes poor Tom Bowling, The darHnof of our crew ! No more he'll hear the tempest howling ; For Death has broached him to. His form was of the manliest beauty! His heart was kind and soft ! Faithful below, he did his duty; And now he 's gone aloft ! Tom never from his word departed, His virtues were so rare! His friends were many and true-hearted; His Poll was kind and fair! And then he'd sing so blithe and jolly, Ah ! many 's the time and oft ! But mirth is turned to melancholy ; For Tom is gone aloft! Yet shall poor Tom find pleasant weather. When He, who all commands. Shall give, to call Life's crew together, The word to ' pipe all hands ! ' Thus Death, who Kings and Tars dispatches, In vain Tom's life has doffed! For, though his body 's under hatches, His soul is crone aloft 91 Charlotte Smith. The partial Muse has, from my earliest hours, Smiled on the rugged path I'm doomed to tread ; And still, with sportive hand, has snatched wild flowers. To weave fantastic garlands for my head : But far far happier is the lot of those, Who never learned her dear delusive art ! Which, while it decks the head with many a rose, Reserves the thorn to fester in the heart ! For still she bids soft Pity's melting eye Stream o'er the ills she knows not to remove ! Points every pang, and deepens every sigh Of mourning friendship, or unhappy love ! Ah ! then, how dear the Muse's favours cost, If those paint sorrow best, who feel it most! Queen of the silver bow ! by thy pale beam. Alone and pensive, I delight to stray ; And watch thy shadow trembling in the stream, Or mark the floating clouds that cross thy wa)- And, while I gaze, thy mild and placid light Sheds a soft calm upon my troubled breast ; And oft I think, fair planet of the night ! That, in thy orb, the wretched may have rest! The sufferers of the earth perhaps may go. Released by death, to thy benignant Sphere ! And the sad children of despair and woe Forget in thee, their cup of sorrow here ! O, that I soon may reach thy world serene ! Poor wearied pilgrim in this toiling scene. 92 _ Anne Hunter. A MERMAID'S SONG. ' Now the dancing sunbeams play On the green and glassy sea ; Come, and I will lead the way, Where the pearly treasures be ! Come with me, and we will go Where the rocks of coral grow! Follow ! follow ! follow me ! ' Come, behold what treasures lie Deep below the rolling waves ! Riches, hid from human eye, Dimly shine in ocean's caves ! Stormy winds are far away! Ebbing tides brook no delay! Follow ! follow ! follow me I ' TIME. Time may Ambition's nest destroy, Though on a rock 'tis perched so high ; May find dull Av'rice in his cave, And drag to light the sordid slave : But from Affection's tempered chain^ To free the heart he strives in vain ! The sculptured urn, the marble bust, By Time are crumbled with the dust ; But tender thoughts the Muse has twined For Love's, for Friendship's brow designed, Shall still endure ! shall still delight ! Till Time is lost in endless night. 93 Afine Htmtev. THE DEATH SONG. ' Thk sun sets in night, and the stars shun the day : But glory remains, when their hghts fade away! Begin, you tormentors ! Your threats are in vain ; For the son of Alknomook will never complain ! ' Remember the arrows he shot from his bow ! Remember your chiefs, by his hatchet laid low ! Why so slow ? Do you wait till I shrink from the pain ? No ! the son of Alknomook shall never complain ! ' Remember the wood, where in ambush we lay ; And the scalps which we bore from your nation awa)' ! Now the flame rises fast ! You exult in my pain ! But the son of Alknomook can never complain ! ' I go to the land where my father is gone ! His ghost shall rejoice in the fame of his son ! Death comes, like a friend, to relieve me from pain ! And thy son, O, Alknomook! has scorned to complain !" MAY DAY. The village bells ring merrily; The milkmaids sing so cheerily, With flow'ry wreaths and ribbons crowned ; Now May Day comes its annual round : The May-pole rears its lofty head; Round on the turf they dance and play; While I, the distant pathway tread. And shun their dance and festive Lay. 94 Afine Hunter. The withered leaves fell mournfully, The Autumn blast blew cold for me, When LuBiN left me, at the door Of our lone Cottaqe on the moor. He follows far the fife and drum, In scarlet decked and feathers gay : Ah ! while he wanders far from home, How can I hail the festive May ? My mother bids me bind my hair With bands of rosy hue ; Tie up my sleeves with ribbons rare, And lace my bodice blue! ' For why,' she cries, ' sit still and weep, While others dance and play ? ' Alas ! I scarce can go, or creep, While LuBiN is away! 'Tis sad to think the days are gone, When those we love were near! I sit upon this mossy stone. And sigh when none can hear : And while I spin my flaxen thread, And sing my simple Lay, The village seems asleep, or dead, Now LuBiN is away! 95 Rt. Hon, Richard Briuslcy Butler Sheridan. A GENERAL TOAST. Here 's to the Maiden of blushing fifteen ! Now to the Widow of fifty ! Here 's to the flaunting extravagant Quean ; And then to the Housewife that 's thrifty ! Chorus. Let the Toast pass ! drink to the Lass ! I warrant she'll prove an excuse for the Glass ! Here *s to the Charmer, whose dimples we prize ! Now to the Damsel with none, Sir ! Here 's to the Maid with her pair of blue eyes ; And now to the Nymph with but one, Sir ! Chorus. Let the Toast pass ! drink to the Lass ! &c. Here 's to the Maid with her bosom of snow ! Now to her that 's as brown as a beny ! Here 's to the Wife with a face full of woe ; And now to the Damsel that 's merry! Chorus. Let the Toast pass ! drink to the Lass ! &c. For let them be clumsy, or let them be slim, Young, or ancient ; I care not a feather ! So fill us a bumper, quite up to the brim ; And e'en let us Toast them together! Chorus. Let the Toast pass I drink to the Lass! &c. 96 RICHARD BRINSLEY BUTLER SHERIDAN. Rt. Hon. Richard Brinsley Butler Sheridan. DON CARLOS' SONG. Had I a heart for falsehood framed, I ne'er could injure you ! For though your tongue no promise claimed, Your charms would make me true ! To you no soul shall bear deceit, No stranger offer wrong; But Friends in all the aged you'll meet, And Lovers in the young! But when they learn that you have blest Another with your heart, They'll bid aspiring Passion rest; And act a Brother's part ! Then, Lady ! dread not here deceit ; Nor fear to suffer wrong! For Friends in all the aged you'll meet, And Brothers in the young! BRIT. ANTH. X. H fyj AY. Hon. Richard Brinsley Butler Sheridan, Dried be that tear, my gentlest Love! Be hushed that struggling sigh ! Not Seasons, Day, nor Fate shall prove More fixed, more true, than I ! Hushed be that sigh! be dried that tear! Cease, boding doubt! cease, anxious fear! Dost ask, How long my vows shall stay, When all that 's new is past ? How long ? my Delia ! Can I say How long my life will last ? Dried be that tear! be hushed that sigh! At least, I'll love thee till I die! And does that thought affect thee too, The thought of Sylvio's death, That he, who only breathes for you, Must yield that faithful breath? Hushed be that sigh ! be dried that tear ! Nor let us lose our Heaven here! 98 William Pearce. THE HE A VING OF THE LEAD, For England, when, with favring gale, Our gallant ship up Channel steered; And, scudding under easy sail, The high blue western land appeared; To heave the lead, the Seaman sprang, And to the Pilot cheer'ly sang, 'By the deep — Nine!* And, bearing up, to gain the port, Some well-known object kept in view, An Abbey tower, a harbour Fort, Or Beacon to the vessel true, While oft the lead the Seaman flang, And to the Pilot cheer'ly sang, * By the mark — Seven ! ' And, as the much-loved shore we near, With transport we beheld the roof Where dwelt the Friend, or Partner dear, Of faith and love a matchless proof; The lead once more the Seaman flang, And to the watchful Pilot sang, ' Quarter less Five ! ' H 2 99 Henry James Pye, M.P.; P.L, THE MYRTLE AND BRAMBLE. A Fable. Luxuriant with perennial green, A Myrtle young and lovely stood, Sole Beauty of the wintry scene, The fairest daughter of the wood. Close by her side a Bramble grew, Like other brambles rude with thorn, Who sickened at the pleasing view ; Yet what she envied, seemed to scorn! Full oft, to blast each hated charm, She called the fiery bolts of Jove! But Jove was too polite to harm Aught sacred to the Queen of Love. Yet was her rage not wholly crost! Boreas was to her wishes kind, And from his magazines of frost, He summoned forth the keenest wind. lOO Henry yames Pye, M.P. ; P.L. A thousand clouds surcharged with rain, The ruffian God around him calls ; Then blows intense ; and o'er the plain, A fleecy deluge instant falls. No more the Myrtle bears the bell! No more her leaves luxuriant show! The thorny Bramble looks as well, Powdered and periwigged with snow. Sure, some gray antiquated maid, The very Bramble of her sex, To each invidious Power has prayed, Our eyes and senses to perplex! Fashion, with more than Boreas' rage, A universal snow has shed ; And given the hoary tint of Age To every lovely female's head! O, break thy rival's hated spell! Kind Nature! that, where'er we ramble. Thy work from Courtoi's we may tell ; And know a Myrtle from a Bramble! lOI yohn Lowe. MARY'S DREAM, The moon had climbed the highest hill, Which rises o'er the source of Dee; And from the eastern summit shed Her silver light on tower and tree; When Mary laid her down to sleep, Her thoughts on Sandy far at sea ; When soft and low a voice was heard, Saying, ' Mary ! weep no more for me ! ' She from her pillow gently raised Her head, to ask, 'Who there might be?' She saw young Sandy shiv'ring stand, With visage pale and hollow eye. ' O, Mary, dear ! cold is my clay ! It lies beneath a stormy sea ! Far, far from thee, I sleep in death ; So, Mary! weep no more for me! X02 J-ohn Lowe. * Three stormy nights and stormy days, We tossed upon the raging Main ; And long we strove our bark to save, But all our striving was in vain ! E'en then, when horror chilled my blood, My heart was filled with love for thee ! The storm is past, and I, at rest ; So, Mary! weep no more for me! *0, Maiden dear! thyself prepare! We soon shall meet upon that shore Where Love is free from doubt and care; And thou and I shall part no more ! ' Loud crowed the cock 1 the shadow fled I No more of Sandy could she see: But soft the passing spirit said, * Sweet Mary ! weep no more for me ! ' 103 Anonymous, OLD ENGLAND. Who thirsts for more knowledge, is welcome to roam ! He may seek a new clime, who is wretched at home! Who of pleasure, or folly, has not had his fill, May quit poor Old England whenever he will ! But nothing shall tempt me to cross the salt Main ! For change, I'm too steady ; and rambling is pain ! Old England, brave boys ! good enough is for me! Where my thoughts I can speak ; where, by birth- right, I'm free ! Whatever I wish for, now comes at my call ! I can roam in my fields ! I can feast in my Hall ! My time is my own, I can do as I will ! I have children that prattle, a Wife that is still I I feel that I'm happy, though taxes run high ! I want no exotics, so easy am I ! I'm alive to my friends, and at peace with the dead ; With Party and State I ne'er trouble my head ! Contention I hate ! and my Glass I love most. When ' The King and Old England ! ' are named as the Toast! Did you see e'er a Shepherd, ye Nymphs ! pass this way, Crowned with myrtle and all the gay verdure of May? 'Tis my Shepherd ! O, bring him once more to my eyes ! From his LuCY, in search of new pleasures he flies! 104 Anonymous. All the day how I travelled and toiled o'er the plains, In pursuit of a rebel that 's scarce worth the pains 1 Take care, Maids ! take care, when he flatters and swears, How you trust your own eyes ! or believe your own ears ! Like the rosebud in June, ev'ry hand he'll invite; But wound the kind heart, like the thorn out of sight ! And, trust me ! whoe'er my false Shepherd detains, She'll find him a conquest that 's scarce worth the pains! Three months at my feet did he languish and sigh. Ere he gained a kind word, or a tender reply! Love, Honour, and Truth, were the themes that he sung, And he vowed, that his soul was akin to his tongue! Too soon I believed, and replied to his strains ; And gave him too frankly my heart for his pains. The trifle once gained, like a boy at his play, Soon the Wanton grew weary, and flung it away! Now, cloyed with my love, from my arms he does fly In search of another as silly as I ! But, trust me ! whoe'er my false Shepherd detains, She'll find him a conquest that 's scarce worth her pains ! Beware, all ye Nymphs! how ye soothe the fond flame! And believe, in good time, all the sex are the same! Like Strephon, from Beauty to Beauty they range ! Like him, they will flatter, dissemble, and change! And do all we can, still the maxim remains. That a man, when we've got him, is scarce worth the pains ! 105 Samuel Rogers. A WISH. Mine be a Cot beside the hill! A beehive's hum shall soothe my ear! A willowy brook, that turns a Mill, With many a fall, shall linger near! The swallow, oft, beneath my thatch, Shall twitter from her clay-built nest! Oft shall the Pilgrim lift the latch ; And share my meal, a welcome guest! Around my ivied Porch shall spring Each fragrant flower that drinks the dew; And Lucy, at her Wheel, shall sing, In russet gown and apron blue! The village Church among the trees, Where first our marriage- vows were given, With merry peals shall swell the breeze; And point with taper spire to Heaven! THE SAILOR. The Sailor sighs, as sinks his native shore, As all its lessening turrets bluely fade ; He climbs the mast to feast his eye once more. And busy Fancy fondly lends her aid. io6 Samuel Rogers. Ah ! now, each dear domestic scene he knew, Recalled and cherished in a foreign clime, Charms with the magic of a moonlight view; Its colours mellowed, not impaired, by time. True as the needle, homeward points his heart, Through all the horrors of the stormy Main ; This, the last wish with which its warmth could part, To meet the smile of her he loves again. When Morn first faintly draws her silver line, Or Eve's gray cloud descends to drink the wave, When sea and sky in midnight darkness join ; Still, still he views the parting look She gave. Her gentle spirit, lightly hov'ring o'er. Attends his little bark from Pole to Pole; And, when the beating billows round him roar. Whispers sweet hope, to soothe his troubled soul. Carved is her name in many a spicy grove, In many a plantain forest waving wide ; Where dusky youths in painted plumage rove. And giant palms o'erarch the yellow tide. But, lo ! at last, he comes, with crowded sail ! Lo ! o'er the cliff what eager figures bend ! And, hark ! what mingled murmurs swell the gale ! In each, he hears the welcome of a friend. 107 Samuel Rogers. *Tis She! 'tis She herself! She waves her hand! Soon is the anchor cast, the canvas furled ; Soon, through the milk-white foam, he springs to land, And clasps the Maid he singled from the World. AN ITALIAN SONG. Dear is my little native vale! The ringdove builds and warbles there; Close by my Cot she tells her tale To ev'ry passing villager. The squirrel leaps from tree to tree, And shells his nuts at liberty. In orange groves and myrtle bowers, That breathe a gale of fragrance round, I charm the fairy-footed hours With my loved lute's romantic sound ; Or crowns of living laurel weave For those that win the race at eve. The Shepherd's horn at break of day, The Ballet danced in twilight glade, The Canzonet and Roundelay Sung in the silent greenwood shade; These simple joys, that never fail, Shall bind me to my native vale! io8 Lieutenant- Colonel y antes Dairy mple. Thus, lately, to Cupid I offered my prayer, -L _ * With kindness, thy vot'ry regard ! ' r ' True Lovers,' he answered, 'have still been my care; I come to bestow the reward! ' You shall have, happy mortal ! ' he cried, * Two kisses of Venus my mother ! ' With some hesitation, I humbly replied, 'I'd rather have one of another! ' Forgive me, I mean not at all to despise The Lady that gave Cupid birth! Such beauty as hers was designed for the skies! My Nice may do upon Earth ! * The God, who, at first, coloured, frowned, and looked gruff, Now seeing I meant no abuse. Recovering his features, cried, ' Well ! well ! enough ! Go ask it, she will not refuse ! ' Notwithstanding all this, I depend on your will; And am still of refusal afraid. Say, are you, Nice ! disposed to fulfil The promise that Cupid has made? 109 IVilliam Dudgeon. THE MAID THAT TENDS THE GOATS. Up amang yon cliffy rocks, Sweetly rings the rising echo To the Maid that tends the goats, Lilting o'er her native notes. Hark ! she sings, ' Young Sandy 's kind, An he 's promis'd ay to lo'e me! Here 's a brotch I ne'er shall tine Till he 's fairly married to me ! Drive away, ye drone, Time! An' bring about our bridal day! 'Sandy herds a flock o' sheep Afen does he blaw the whistle In a strain sae saftly sweet, Lammies, list'ning, dare nae bleat! He 's as fleet 's the mountain roe ! Hardy as the Highland heather! Wading thro' the winter snow. Keeping ay his flock together! But a plaid, wi' bare houghs. He braves the bleakest norlin blast! ' Brawly he can dance and sing, Canty glee or Highland cronach ! None can ever match his fling At a reel, or round a ring! no William Dudgeon and Anonymous. Wightly can he wield a rung! In a brawl, he's ay the bangster! A' his praise can ne'er be sung By the langest-winded Sangster! Sangs, that sing o' Sandy, Come short, tho' they were e'er sae lang ! ' ANONYMOUS. (9, DEAR ! WHA T CAN THE MA TTER BE f O, dear! what can the matter be? Dear ! dear ! what can the matter be ? O, dear ! what can the matter be ? Johnny s so long at the Fair! He promised to buy me a pair of blue stockings, A pair of new garters that cost him but twopence! He promised he'd bring me a bunch of blue ribbons To tie up my bonny brown hair! O, dear ! what can the matter be ? Dear! dear! what can the matter be? O, dear ! what can the matter be ? Johnny 's so long at the Fair! He promised to bring me a basket of posies, A garland of lilies, a garland of roses ! A little straw hat, to set off the blue ribbons That tie up my bonny brown hair! Ill Henrietta O'Neill, Viscountess O'Neill. ODE TO THE POPPY. Not for the promise of the laboured field, Not for the good the yellow harvests yield, I bend at Ceres' shrine! For dull, to humid eyes, appear The golden glories of the year! Alas ! a melancholy worship 's mine ! I hail the Goddess, for her scarlet flower! Thou brilliant weed ! That dost so far exceed The richest gifts gay Flora can bestow! Heedless, I passed thee, in Life's morning hour (Thou comforter of woe I), Till sorrow taught me to confess thy power! In early days, when Fancy cheats, A varied wreath I wove Of laughing Spring's luxuriant sweets, To deck ungrateful Love ! The rose, or thorn, my labours crowned ; As Venus smiled, or Venus frowned ! But Love, and Joy, and all their Train, are flown! E'en languid Hope no more is mine ! And I will sing of thee alone ; iia Henrietta O'Neill, Viscountess O'Neill, Unless, perchance the attributes of Grief, The cypress bud, the willow leaf, Their pale funereal foliage blend with thine. Hail, lovely blossom ! Thou canst ease The wretched victims of disease ! Canst close those weary eyes in gentle sleep, Which never open but to weep ! For, oh! thy potent charm Can agonizing Pain disarm ! Expel imperious Memory from her seat! And bid the throbbing heart forget to beat! Soul-soothing plant ! that can such blessings give ! By thee, the mourner bears to live! By thee, the hopeless die! Oh ! ever * friendly to despair,' Might Sorrow's pallid votary dare (Without a crime) that remedy implore, Which bids the spirit from its bondage fly, I'd court thy palliative aid no more! No more I'd sue, that thou shouldst spread Thy spell around my aching head ! But would conjure thee to impart Thy balsam for a broken heart ; And, by thy soft Lethean power. Inestimable flower! Burst these terrestrial bonds, and other regions try BRIT. ANTH. X. I 113 l^i^illiam IVoty. THE UNION. With Women and Wine, I defy every care! For life without these, is a bubble of air! Each helping the other, in pleasure I roll ; And a new flow of spirits enlivens my soul ! Let grave sober mortals my maxims condemn; I never shall alter my conduct for them ! I care not how much, they my measures decline! Let them have their own humour — and I will have mine! Wine, prudently used, will our senses improve! 'Tis the Spring-tide of Life, and the fuel of Love! And Venus ne'er looked with a smile so divine, As when Mars bound his head with a branch of the vine ! Then come, my dear Charmer! thou Nymph half divine! First, pledge me with kisses ! then, pledge me with Wine ! Then giving, and taking, in mutual return. The torch of our loves shall eternally burn ! But shouldst thou my passion for Wine disapprove, My bumper I'll quit, to be blessed with thy love ! For rather than forfeit the joys of my Lass, My bottle I'll break, and demolish my Glass ! "4 Anonymous. 'COME, KISS MET SAYS HE. Young Damon was whistling, brisk and gay, With waistcoat so red, and stockings so gray ; Just merrily come from the Fair, He met pretty Sue in the way. * Come, kiss me ! ' says he. ' I won t ! ' says she ; ' You're bold, and I hate you ! I do, I declare ! ' He offered a ribbon, her hair to bind, * Dear Susan ! come kiss ! and in pity be kind ; Or I'll hang, in a fit of despair ! ' 'Despair,' cried the Maiden, 'is blind!* 'Then kiss me!' says he. ' I won't ! ' says she ; 'You think that I love you; I don't, I declare!' ' Shall we go to the Parson ? ' he roguishly said : She curtsied, cried ' Yes I ' blushed, and held down her head, With a look that dispelled all his care ; For she found that he wished her to wed. ' Well, kiss me ! ' says he. ' I will ! ' says she ; 'I'll kiss, when we're wed; not till then, I declare!' 12 115 Anonymous. THE FRIEND AND THE LOVER. I'm told by the wise ones, a Maid I shall die. They say, * I'm too nice ! ' ; but the charge I deny ! I know but too well, how time flies along! That we live but few years ; and yet fewer are young ! But I hate to be cheated! and never will buy Whole ages of sorrow for moments of joy ! I never will wed till a Youth I can find, Where the Friend and the Lover are equally joined ! No pedant, though learned ! or foolishly gay, Or laughing because he has nothing to say ! To ev'ry Fair One obliging and free; But never be fond of any but me ! In whose tender bosom, my soul may confide! Whose kindness can soothe me! whose counsels can guide ! Such a Youth I would marry, if such I could find ; Where the Friend and the Lover are equally joined ! From such a dear Lover as here I describe, No danger should fright me ! not millions should bribe I But till this astonishing creature I know, I'm single, and happy! and still will be sol You may laugh, and suppose I am nicer than wise! But ril shun the vain Fop ! the dull Coxcomb despise ! Nor ever will wed till a Youth I can find. Where the Friend and the Lover are equally joined I ii6 Anonymous. When the trees are all bare, not a leaf to be seen! And the meadows their beauty have lost ; When Nature 's disrobed of her mantle of green, And the streams are fast bound with the frost; When the Peasant, inactive, stands shiv'ring with cold, As bleak the winds northernly blow ; When the innocent flocks run for ease to the fold, With their fleeces besprinkled with snow; In the yard, when the cattle are foddered with straw. And they send forth their breath like a steam ; And the neat-looking Dairymaid sees she must thaw Flakes of ice, that she finds in her cream ; When the Lads and the Lasses, in company joined, In a crowd round the embers are met. Talk of Fairies, and Witches that ride upon wind, And of Ghosts, till they're all in a sweat: Heaven grant, in this season, it may be my lot, With the Nymph whom I love and admire. Whilst the icicles hang from the eaves of my Cot, I may thither, in safety, retire ! Where, in neatness and quiet, and free from surprise, We may live, and no hardship endure! Nor feel any turbulent passions arise, But such as each other may cure! 117 Hector MacneilL MY BOY TAMMY! [THE lammie:] *Whar hae ye been a' day? My boy Tammy ! Whar hae ye been a' day? My boy Tammy ! ' 'I've been by burn and flowery brae, Meadow green, and mountain grey, Courting o' this young thing, Just come frae her Mammy.* 'And whar gat ye that young thing? My boy Tammy!' * I gat her down in yonder how, Smiling on a broomy know, Herding ae wee lamb and ewe For her poor Mammy/ ' What said ye to the bonie bairn ? My boy Tammy!' * I praised her een, sae lovely blue, Her dimpled cheek, and cherry mou ; I pree'd it aft, as ye may true I She said. She'd tell her Mammy! ii8 Hector Macneill. ' I held her to my beating heart, "My young, my smiling Lammie! I hae a house, it cost me dear ! I've walth o' plenishen and geer! Ye'se get it a, war't ten times mair, Gin ye will leave your Mammy!" * The smile gade aff her bonie face, " I maun nae leave my Mammy ! She 's gi'en me meat ! she 's gi'en me claise She 's been my comfort a' my days! My father's death brought mony waes! I canna leave my Mammy ! " *" We'll tak her hame, and mak her fain, My ain kind-hearted Lammie! We'll gie her meat ! we'll gie her claise ! We'll be her comfort a' her days ! " The wee thing gi'es her hand, and says, ** There ! gang, and ask my Mammy ! " ' 'Has she been to Kirk wi' thee? My boy Tammy ! ' 'She has been to Kirk wi' me, And the tear was in her ee: But, O, she 's but a young thing. Just come frae her Mammy!' 119 Hector Macneill. COME UNDER MY PLAIDY ! OR Modern Marriage delineated. ' Come under my plaidy ! the night 's gau'n to fa' ! Come in frae the cauld blast, the drift, and the snaw ! Come under my plaidy, and sit down beside me ! There 's room in't, dear Lassie ! believe me, for twa ! Come under my plaidy, and sit down beside me! I'll hap ye frae every cauld blast that can blaw! O, come under my plaidy, and sit down beside me ! There 's room in't, dear Lassie! believe me, for twa!' ' Gae 'wa wi' your plaidy ! auld Donald ! gae' wa ! I fear na the cauld blast, the drift, nor the snaw! Gae 'wa wi' your plaidy ! I'll no sit beside ye ! Ye may be my gutcher ! auld Donald ! gae 'wa ! I'm gau'n to meet Johnie! he 's young and he 's bonie ! He's been at Meg's bridal, sae trig and sae braw! O, nane dances sae lightly ! sae gracefu' ! sae tightly ! His cheek's like the new rose! his brow 's like the snaw ! * Dear Marion ! let that flee stick fast to the wa' ! Your Jock 's but a gowk, and has naithing ava! I20 Hector Macneill. The hale o' his pack, he has now on his back ! He 's thretty, and I am but threescore and twa! Be frank now, and kindly ! I'll busk you ay finely ! To Kirk, or to Market, they'll few gang sae braw! A bein house to bide in, a chaise for to ride in ; And flunkies to tend ye, as aft as ye ca'!* 'My father 's ay tauld me, my mither and a*, Ye'd mak' a gude husband, and keep me ay braw. It 's true, I loo Johnie! he 's gude and he 's bonie ; But, wae 's me! ye ken he has naething ava! I hae little tocher. You've made a gude offer. I'm now mair than twenty ; my time is but sma' ! Sae gi' me your plaidy, I'll creep in beside ye! I thought ye'd been aulder than threescore and twa ! ' She crap in ayont him, aside the stane wa', Whar Johnie was list'ning, and heard her tell a'. The day was appointed — his proud heart it dunted, And strack 'gainst his side as if bursting in twa. He wander'd hame weary; the night, it was dreary, And, thowless, he tint his gate deep 'mang the snaw ; The howlet was screamin', while Johnie cried, * Women Wa'd marry auld Nick, if he'd keep them ay braw! O, the Deel 's in the Lasses ! They gang now sae bra', They'll lie down wi' auld men o' fourscore and twa! The hale o' their marriage is gowd and a carriage ; \Plain Love is the cauldest blast now that can blaw ! ' f^ 121 Hector Macneill. I LOO'D NE'ER A LADDIE BUT ANE ! I loo'd ne'er a Laddie but ane ! He loo'd ne'er a Lassie but me ! He 's willing to mak me his ain ; And his ain I am willing to be! He has coft me a rocklay o' blue, And a pair o' mittens o' green; The price was a kiss o' my mou, And I paid him the debt yestreen ! Let ithers brag weel o* their gear, Their land, and their lordly degree ! I carena for ought but my Dear! For he 's ilka thing lordly to me! His words are sae sugar'd! sae sweet! His sense drives ilk fear far awa! I listen, poor fool ! and I greet ! Yet, O, how sweet are the tears, as they fa' 122 Hector Macneill. 'Dear Lassie!' he cries, wi' a jeer, ' Ne'er heed what the auld ones will say ! Though we've little to brag o' — ne'er fear! What 's gowd to a heart that is wae! Our Laird has baith honours and wealth ; Yet see, how he 's dwining wi' care ! Now we, tho' we've naithing but health, Are cantie and leil evermair! ' O, Marion ! the heart that is true Has something mair costly than gear! Ilk e'en it has naithing to rue ! Ilk morn it has nothing to fear! Ye warldings ! gae, hoard up your store ; And tremble for fear ought ye tyne! Guard your treasures, wi' lock, bar, and door; While here, in my arms, I lock mine!' He ends wi' a kiss and a smile. Wae 's me! can I tak it amiss? My Laddie 's unpractis'd in guile, He 's free ay to daut and to kiss! Ye Lassies, wha loo to torment Your Wooers wi' fause scorn and strife. Play your pranks ! I hae gi'en my consent ; And, this night, I am Jamie's for life! 123 Anonymous. THE FIRESIDE. The hearth was clean, the fire clear, The kettle on for tea ; Ranger was in his elbow-chair. As blessed no man could be ! Clarinda, who his heart possest, And was his new-made Bride, With head elate upon his breast, Sat toying by his side. Stretched at his feet, in happy state, A fav'rite dog was laid ; By whom, a little sportive cat In wanton humour played, Clarinda's hand, he gently pressed; She stole an amorous kiss, And blushing modesty confessed The fullness of her bliss. * Be this eternity ! ' he cried, 'And let no more be given! Continue thus my fireside! I ask no more of Heaven ! * 124 Paul Whitehead. The sun from the East tips the mountains with gold ; The meadows all spangled with dewdrops behold ! Hear ! the lark's early Matin proclaims the new day ; And the horn's cheerful summons rebukes our delay! With the sports of the field there 's no pleasure can vie ; While jocund we follow the hounds in full cry ! Let the drudge of the Town make riches his sport ; The slave of the State hunt the smiles of a Court ! Nor care or ambition our pastime annoy ; But innocence still gives a zest to our joy ! With the sports of the field there 's no pleasure can vie ; &c. Mankind are all Hunters in various degree: The Priest hunts a Living ! the Lawyer, a fee ! The Doctor, a patient ! the Courtier, a place ! Though often, like us, they're flung out in the chase. With the sports of the field there 's no pleasure can vie ; &c. The Cit hunts a plumb ; while the Soldier hunts fame ! The Poet, a dinner ! the Patriot, a name ! And the artful Coquet, though she seem to refuse ; Yet, in spite of her Airs, still her Lover pursues ! With the sports of the field there 's no pleasure can vie ; &c. Let the bold and the busy hunt Glory and Wealth! All the blessings we ask is the blessing of Health ! With hounds and with horns, through the woodlands to roam ! And, when tired abroad, find contentment at home ! With the sports of the field there 's no pleasure can vie ; &c. 125 Rev. yohn Wolcot. LISETTA, In the name of the great God of Love, how shall I dispose of myself ? Which of my Swains must wear the willow ? O, Virgins! tell me how to choose! For I'm a novice on it. Poor Colin at a distance wooes, And sends his soul in Sonnet. While LuBiN, to no forms a slave, Won't stay to write for blisses ; But prints upon my mouth, the knave! His wishes with his kisses. If LuBiN seize a rude embrace, And I begin to clatter; The rogue stares gravely in my face, And asks me, 'What 's the matter?' Of kisses lately he stole three, I shrieked with might and main ! 'Since ye don't like them,' pert quoth he, ' Lord I take them back again I ' 126 Rev. yohn IVolcot. 'No! No! I won't!' says I, 'keep off! They please me much ! * I swore. * O, is it so ? ' cried he, ' enough ! Then, Miss! you wish for more\* Poor Colin turns, if I but frown, All white as any fleece is ; LuBiN would give me a green gown, And rummage me to pieces! The one so meek and complaisant, All silence, awe, and wonder; The other, impudence and rant, And boist'rous as the thunder! This, begs to press my finger's tip, So bashful is my Lover ; That, savage bounces on my lip, And kisses it all over! O, Modesty ! thou art so sweet ! Not wild, and bold, and teasing! And yet each Sister Nymph I meet. Thinks boldness not unpleasing! This is a wicked World! O, dear! And wickedness is in me! Though Modesty s so sweet, I fear That Impudence will win me ! 127 Rev. jfohn IVolcot. How changed is my Celadon's heart! How altered each look of the Swain ! Now, sullen, he wishes to part ; Who called me, ' The pride of the plain ! ' Of late, with what ardour he strove, Ev'ry hour that was mine to beguile ! How he grieved, if I doubted his love ; And how blest, if he gained but a smile ! To me, he devoted his days ; And raptured on me was his tongue ! Thus Morning arose on his praise, And Evening went down on his Song ! Let me steal to the desert, and die ! Nor wound with reproaches his ears! My reproof shall be only a sigh ! My complaint, but the silence of tears ! CORIN'S PROFESSION; OR The Song of Constancy. Now, Joan! we are married! and now, let me say, Though both are in youth ; yet that youth \vill decay ! In our journey through life, my dear Joan! I suppose We shall oft meet a bramble, and sometimes a rose ! 128 Rev. yohn IVolcot. When a cloud on this forehead shall darken my day, Thy sunshine of sweetness must smile it away! And when the dull vapour shall dwell upon thine, To chase it the labour and triumph be mine ! Let us wish not for Wealth, to devour and consume ! For luxury 's but a short road to the tomb ! Let us sigh not for Grandeur ; for trust me, my Joan ! The keenest of cares owes its birth to a throne! Thou shalt milk our one cow ; and if Fortune pursue, In good time, with her blessing, my Joan may milk two! I will till our small field ; whilst thy prattle and Song Shall charm, as I drive the bright ploughshare along ! When finished the day, by the fire we'll regale ; And treat our good neighbour at eve with our ale! For, Joan ! who would wish for Self only to live ? One blessing of life, my dear Girl ! is to give ! E'en the redbreast and wren shall not seek us in vain; Whilst thou hast a crumb, or thy Corin a grain ! Not only their songs will they pour from the grove ; But yield, by example, sweet lessons of love I Though thy beauty must fade, yet thy youth I'll remember ! That thy May was my own, when thoushewest December! And when Age to my head shall his winter impart, The summer of Love shall reside in my heart! BRIT. ANTH. X. K 129 Rev. yohf! Wolcot. TO MY LUTE. What shade, and what stillness around! Let us seek the loved Cot of the Fair! There, soften her sleep with thy sound ; And banish each phantom of care ! The Virgin may wake to thy strain; And be soothed, nay ! be pleased, with thy Song ! At last, she may pity the Swain, And fancy his sorrows too long! Could thy voice give a smile to her cheek, What a joy, what a rapture, were mine! Then for ever thy fame would I speak ! O, my Lute! what a triumph were thine! Ah ! whisper kind love in her ear. And sweetly my wishes impart! Say, ' The Swain who adores her, is near ! * Say, ' Thy sounds are the sighs of his heart ! ' ORSON'S SONG. I OWN I am fickle! To Phillida's ear I first told the story of Love ; [sincere ! Kissed her hand, pressed her lip, with what ardour And declared that I never would rove! 130 Rev. yohn JVolcot. But my sighs were scarce breathed, when Chloe tripped by ; The Nymph was no longer my boast ! From Phillida's beauty away went the sigh ; And my heart to sweet Chloe was lost ! Could I dream of a change, when Chloe was mine ? * No ! No ! ' I a thousand times swore, ' My heart cannot rove from a Girl so divine ! No ! No ! it will wander no more ! ' But Fate, who delighted to laugh at the Swain, Presented a damsel more fair : My heart, the sad rogue ! turned inconstant again And sighed to Corinna his prayer! With Corinna I swore, ' Ev'ry hour must be blest ! These eyes shall no other pursue ! ' When again, to alarm with new tumults my breast, Thou, Sylvia! beam'st full on my view! But, Sylvia! I'm sure, thou hast nothing to fear. That my heart for another can pine ! Since, to make it a traitor, a Girl must appear. Whose beauty is equal to thine ! K 2 131 Rev. yohn IVolcot. TO CHLOE. Chloe ! no more must we be billing ! There goes my last, my poor last shilling Vile Fortune bids us part! Yet, Chloe! this my bosom charms, That, when thou'rt in another's arms, I still possess thy heart I Fortune *s a whimsical old Dame ; And possibly may blush with shame At this her freak with me! But should she smile again, and offer, Well filled with gold, an ample coffer ; I'll send the key to thee! O, Nymph! of Fortune's smiles beware! Nor heed the Syren's flatt'ring tongue! She lures thee to the haunts of Care, Where Sorrow pours a ceaseless Song! Ah ! what are all her piles of gold ! Can those the hosts of Care control ? The splendour which thine eyes behold, Is not the sunshine of the soul! 13a Rev. yohn JVolcot. To Love alone thy homage pay! The Queen of ev'ry true delight! Her smiles with joy shall gild thy day, And bless the visions of the night! Ah ! tell me no more, my dear Girl ! with a sigh, That a coldness will creep o'er my heart! That a sullen indifference will dwell on my eye. When thy beauty begins to depart! Shall thy graces, O, Cynthia ! that gladden my day And brighten the gloom of the night, Till life be extinguished, from memory stray; Which it ought to review with delight? Upbraiding, shall Gratitude say, with a tear, * That no longer I think of those charms Which gave to my bosom such rapture sincere, And faded at length in my arms ' ? Why, yes ! it may happen, thou Damsel divine ! To be honest, I freely declare That, e'en now, to thy converse so much I incline, I've already forgot thou art fair! 133 Rev. John Wolcot. Fie! Sylvia! why so gravely look, Because a kiss or two I took ? Those luscious lips might thousands grant! Rich rogues, that never feel the want ! So little in a kiss I see, A hundred thou mayst take from me! But since, like misers o'er their store, Thou hat'st to give, though running o'er; I scorn to cause the slightest pain, So, prithee, take them back again! Nay! with good int'rest let it be done! Thou'rt welcome to take ten for one ! O, Summer! thy presence gives joy to the vale! The song of the warbler enlivens the grove ! The pipe of the Shepherd, I hear in the gale ; Alas ! but I hear not the voice of my Love ! The lilies are dressed in their purest array! To the valleys, the woodbines a fragrance impart ! The roses, the pride of their crimson display ; But I see not the blush of the Nymph of my heart ! Go, Shepherds ! and bring the sweet wanderer here ; The boast of her sex, and delight of the Swains ! Go, Shepherds ! and whisper this truth in her ear, ' That the Pleasures, with Phillis, have quitted the plains ! ' 134 Rev. yohn JVolcot. If thus to the Nymph, ye my wishes declare, To the Cot she has left, she will quickly return ! Too soft is her bosom to give us despair; That sooner would sigh, than another should mourn! AH! OPE, LORD GREGORY! THY DOOR! ' Ah ! ope, Lord Gregory ! thy door ! A midnight wanderer sighs ! Hard rush the rains, the tempests roar, And lightnings cleave the skies ! ' 'Who comes, with woe, at this drear night, A Pilgrim of the gloom ? If she whose love did once delight, My Cot shall yield her room ! ' 'Alas! thou heard'st a Pilgrim mourn. That once was prized by thee ! Think of the ring, by yonder burn. Thou gav'st to Love and me! ' But shouldst thou not poor Marian know ; I'll turn my feet, and part I And think the storms that round me blow, Far kinder than thy heart!' 135 Rev. jFohn Wolcot. A PASTORAL SONG. Farewell ! O, farewell to the day That, smiling with happiness, flew! Ye verdures and blushes of May, Ye songs of the linnet, Adieu ! In tears from the Vale I depart! In anguish I move from the Fair ! For what are those scenes to the heart Which Fortune has doomed to despair? Love frowns, and how dark is the hour! Of Rapture, departed the breath ! So gloomy the grove and the bower, I tread the pale Valley of Death! With envy I wander forlorn, At the breeze which her beauty hath fanned! And I envy the bird on the thorn, Who sits watching the crumbs from her hand ! I envy the lark o'er her Cot, Who calls her from slumber so blest! Nay! I envy the nightingale's note, The Syren who sings her to rest! On her hamlet once more let me dwell! One look (the last comfort!) be mine! O, Pleasure! and Delia! farewell! Now, Sorrow! I ever am thine! 136 Rev. yohn IVolcot. TO A KISS. Soft child of Love! thou balmy bliss Inform me, O, delicious Kiss! Why thou so suddenly art gone ? Lost in the moment thou art won! Yet go ! For wherefore should I sigh ? On Delia's lip, with raptured eye, On Delia's blushing lip I see A thousand full as sweet as thee! Who dares talk of hours ? Seize the bell of that clock ! Seize his hammer, and cut off his hands! To the bottle, dear bottle ! I'll stick like a rock ; And obey only Pleasure's commands! Let him strike the short hours, and hint at a bed! Waiter! bring us more wine! What a whim! Say, ' That Time, his old master, for Topers was made ; And not jolly Topers for him ! ' 137 Anonymous. THE FARMER'S SONG. In a sweet healthy air, on a farm of my own, Half a mile from a Church, and just two from a town, Diversions and business I vary for ease; But your fine folks at London may do as they please ! By my freehold, 'tis true, I'm entitled to vote ; But (because I will never be wrong, if I know 't !) I'll adhere to no one, till each Party agrees! But your fine folks at London may do as they please ! Though sixty and upwards, I never knew pain ! My Goody 's as ancient ; yet does not complain ! From the flocks of my own, I wear coats of warm frieze ; But your fine folks at London may do as they please ! I ne'er was at law, in the course of my life; Nor injured a neighbour in daughter, or wife. To the poor have lent money, but never took fees ; But your fine folks at London may do as they please ! I ne'er had ambition to visit the Great; Yet honour my King, and will stand by the State ! By the Church ! and dear Freedom, in all its degrees ! But your fine folks at London may do as they please I '138 William Blake. SONGS OF INNOCENCE. Piping down the valleys wild, Piping Songs of pleasant glee, On a cloud I saw a Child ; And he, laughing, said to me. * Pipe a Song about a lamb ! * So I piped with merry cheer, * Piper ! pipe that Song again ! ' So I piped : he wept to hear. * Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe ! Sing thy Songs of happy cheer ! ' So I sang the same again ; While he wept with joy to hear. * Piper ! sit thee down, and write In a book, that all may read!' So he vanished from my sight : And I plucked a hollow reed, And I made a rural pen. And I stained the water clear; And I wrote my happy Songs, Every child may joy to hear. 139 IVilliam Blake. How sweet I roamed from field to field, And tasted all the Summer's pride, Till I, the Prince of Love beheld; Who in the sunny beams did glide. He showed me lilies for my hair, And blushing roses for my brow ; He led me through his gardens fair. Where all his golden pleasures grow. With sweet May dews my wings were wet, And PiicEBUS fired my vocal rage; He caught me in his silken net. And shut me in his golden cage. He loves to sit and hear me sing. Then, laughing, sports and plays with me; Then stretches out my golden wing, And mocks my loss of liberty. THE ECHOING GREEN, The sun does arise, And makes happy the skies; The merry bells ring To welcome the Spring ; 140 William Blake. The skylark and thrush, The birds of the bush, Sing louder around To the bells' cheerful sound ; While our sports shall be seen On the Echoing Green. Old John, with white hair, Does laugh away care. Sitting, under the oak, Among the old folk. They laugh at our play, And soon they all say, * Such, such were the joys When we all, girls and boys, In our youth-time, were seen On the Echoing Green!' Till the little ones, weary, No more can be merry; The sun does descend. And our sports have an end. Round the laps of their mothers, Many sisters and brothers, Like birds in their nest, Are ready for rest; And sport no more seen On the darkening Green. 141 William Blake. I LOVE the jocund dance, The softly-breathing Song; Where innocent eyes do glance, And where lisps the Maiden's tongue ! I love the laughing vale, I love the echoing hill ; Where mirth does never fail. And the jolly Swain laughs his fill ! I love the pleasant Cot, I love the innocent bower ; Where white and brown is our lot, Or fruit in the mid-day hour! I love the oaken seat Beneath the oaken tree ; Where all the old villagers meet, And laugh our sports to see! I love our neighbours all ; But, Kitty ! I better love thee ! And love them I ever shall ; But thou art all to me! 142 IVilliam Blake. * My silks and fine array, My smiles and languished Air, By Love are driven away ; And mournful lean Despair Brings me yew to deck my grave. Such end True Lovers have ! * His face is fair as heaven, When springing buds unfold! O, why to him was 't given ? Whose heart is wintry cold. His breast is Love's all-worshipped tomb Where all Love's pilgrims come. ' Bring me an axe and spade ! Bring me a winding-sheet ! When I my grave have made, Let winds and tempests beat ! Then down I'll lie, as cold as clay! True love doth pass away ! ' 143 IVilliam Blake. CUPID. Why was Cupid a boy, And why a boy was he ? He should have been a girl, For aught that I can see. For he shoots with his bow, And the girl shoots with her eye ; And they both are merry and glad And laugh, when we do cry. Then to make Cupid a boy, Was surely a woman's plan ! For a boy never learns so much Till he has become a man : And then he 's so pierced with cares, And wounded with arrowy smarts. That the whole business of his life Is to pick out the heads of the darts. MAMMON. I ROSE up at the dawn of day, * Get thee away ! Get thee away ! Pray'st thou for Riches ? Away ! Away This is the Throne of Mammon gray ! ' 144 William Blake. Said I, 'This, sure, is very odd! I took it to be the Throne of GOD ! Everything besides I have ! It 's only Riches that I can crave ! ' I have mental joys and mental health, Mental friends and mental wealth ! I've a Wife that I love, and that loves me ! I've all but Riches bodily! 'Then, if for Riches I must not pray, GOD knows it 's little prayers I need say! I am in GOD's presence night and day; He never turns his face away ! ' The Accuser of sins, by my side doth stand ; And he holds my money-bag in his hand. For my worldly things GOD makes him pay; And he'd pay for more, if to him I would pray ' He says, " If I worship not him for a God, I shall eat coarser food, and go worse shod!" But, as I don't value such things as these, " You must do, Mr. Devil ! just as GOD please ! ' BRIT. ANTH. X. 145 IVilliam Blake. THE CHIMNEY SWEEPER. When my mother died, I was very young; And my father sold me, while yet my tongue Could scarcely cry * 'Weep ! 'Weep ! 'Weep ! 'Weep ! ' : So your chimneys I sweep; and in soot I sleep. There 's little Tom Dacre, who cried, when his head, That curled like a lamb's back, was shaved ; so I said, * Hush, Tom ! never mind it ! for, when your head 's bare, You know that the soot cannot spoil your white hair ! ' And so he was quiet; and, that very night, As Tom was a-sleeping, he had such a sight! That thousands of Sweepers, Dick, Joe, Ned, and Jack, Were, all of them, locked up in coffins of black. And by came an Angel, who had a bright key ; And he opened the coffins, and set them all free ! Then down a green plain, leaping, laughing, they run : And wash in a river, and shine in the sun. Then, naked and white, all their bags left behind. They rise upon clouds, and sport in the wind. And the Angel told Tom, ' If he'd be a good boy. He'd have GOD for his Father ; and never want joy ! ' And so Tom awoke, and we rose in the dark; And got, with our bags and our brushes, to work. Though the morning was cold, Tom was happy and warm : So, if all do their duty, they need not fear harm! 146 JVillimn Blake. THE SHEPHERD. How sweet is the Shepherd's sweet lot! From the morn to the evening he strays ; He shall follow his sheep all the day; And his tongue shall be filled with praise! For he hears the lambs' innocent call ; And he hears the ewes' tender reply. He is watchful, while they are in peace; For they know when their Shepherd is nigh. LAUGHING SONG. When the green woods laugh with the voice of joy, And the dimpling stream runs laughing by; When the air does laugh with our merry wit, And the green hill laughs with the noise of it; When the meadows laugh with lively green, And the grasshopper laughs in the merry scene ; When Mary and Susan and Emily, With their sweet round mouths, sing ' Ha I Ha ! He I '; When the painted birds laugh in the shade, Where our table, with cherries and nuts is spread : Come, live, and be merry ; and join with me, To sing the sweet Chorus of 'Ha! Ha! He!' L 2 147 William Hayley. LITTLE TOM THE SAILOR. And does then the Ocean possess The promising, brave, little Youth ; Who displayed, in a scene of distress, Such tenderness, courage, and truth? Little Tom is a Cottager's son, His years not amounting to ten ; But the dawn of his manhood begun With a soul like the noblest of men! In a Hospital distant from home, He lost his unfortunate Sire : And his Mother was tempted to roam, But to see that kind Father expire. To depart from her Cottage was hard ! To desert the dear dying was worse ! Though she had an idiot to guard; And a sick little infant to nurse. The brave little Tom tried to cheer The grief that he shuddered to see. ' Go, Mother ! ' he said, ' without fear ! Go, and leave these poor creatures to me 'Go, you, my sick Father restore! And I will take care of these two! I will not stir out of the door! For what, without me, could they do ? 148 IVilliain Hayley ' I will carefully dress them and feed ! Go, you, our dear Father to save! I will not desert them indeed ! ' And Tom kept the promise he gave. But his Mother, a Widow came back ; Want and sorrow her portion must be! And her heart, on necessity's rack. Has sent little Thomas to sea. O, Sea I thou grand Servant of GOD I The children of Britain defend! As a braver the deck never trod, Little Thomas will find thee a friend ! And when he *s aloft in the shrouds. If a storm threats aloud to destroy, His Father's free soul, in the clouds, Will watch o'er the venturous boy! I hear, when the tempests appal, That spirit paternal exclaim, 'O. GOD! Thou Protector of all! Let me shelter this dear little frame!' A defender, with honour his due! In the Man, may his country admire ! Since the Child was a guardian so true To the desolate Cot of his Sire. 149 Anonymous, From morning till night, and wherever I go, Young Colin pursues me ; though still I say ' No ! '. Ye Matrons experienced! inform me, I pray! In a point that 's so critical, What shall I say? Soft Sonnets he makes on my beauty and wit; Such praises, a bosom that 's tender must hit! He vows that he'll love me for ever and aye ! In a point that 's so critical, What can I say? He brought me a garland, the sweetest e'er seen; And, saluting me, called me ' his heart's little Queen I ' In my breast, like a bird, I found something play ; Instruct a young Virgin then, what she must say! But vain my petition ! You heed not my call ; But leave me, unguarded, to stand, or to fall! No more I'll solicit ! no longer I'll pray ! Let prudence inform me in what I shall say! When next he approaches, with care in his eye. If he asks me to wed ; I vow I'll comply ! At Church he may take me for ever and aye ; And, I warrant you ! then, I shall know what to say ! 150 Rev. Dr. — Grant. Care ! thou canker of our joys ! Now thy tyrant reign is o'er ! Fill the merry bowl, my boys ! Join in bacchanalian roar ! Seize the villain ! plunge him in ! See, the hated miscreant dies ! Mirth and all thy Train, come in! Banish Sorrow ! Tears ! and Sighs O'er the flowing midnight bowls, O, how happy shall we be ! Day was made for vulgar souls ; Night, my boys ! for you and me ! 151 Professor PVilliam Richardson. THE INVITATION. An Idfllion. Fair Lady! leave parade and show! O, leave thy courtly guise a while ! For thee, the vernal breezes blow ; And groves and flowery valleys smile ! For no conceited selfish pride Corrupts thy taste for rural joy; Nor can thy gentle heart abide The taunting lip, or scornful eye! Nor Scorn, nor Envy, harbour here! Nor Discord, nor profane desires! No Flattery shall offend thine ear, For love our faithful Song inspires When smiling Morn ariseth gay, Gilding the dewdrops on the lawn, Our flocks on flowery uplands stray, Our Songs salute the rosy Dawn. 152 Professor William Richardson. When Noon-tide scorcheth all the hills, And all the flowers and herbage fade; We seek the cool refreshing rills That warble through the greenwood glade But when the lucid star of Eve Shines in the western sky serene, The Swains and Shepherdesses weave Fantastic measures on the Green. O, Lady! change thy splendid State! With us, a Shepherdess abide! Contentment dwells not with the Great ; But flies from Avarice and Pride ! The groves invite thee, and our Vale I Where every fragrant bud that blows. And every stream, and every gale, Will yield thee pastime and repose! 153 Susanna Blamire. WHAT AILS THIS HEART O' MINE? ' What ails this heart o' r.iine ? What ails this watery ee ? What gars me a' turn caiild as death, When I take leave o' thee ? When thou art far awa, Thou'lt dearer grow to me ; But change o' place and change o' folk May gar thy fancy jee! * When I gae out at een, Or walk at morning air, Ilk rustling bush will seem to say, " I us'd to meet thee there ! " Then I'll sit down and cry, And live aneath the tree ; And when a leaf fa's i' my lap, I'll ca 't a word from thee ! * I'll hie me to the bower That thou wi' roses tied; And where, wi' mony a blushing bud, I strove mysell to hide ! 154 Susanna Blamire. ril doat on ilka spot, Where I hae been wi' thee ; And ca' to mind some kindly word, By ilka burn and tree! 'Wi' sic thoughts i* my mind; Time through the world may gae, And find my heart, in twenty years, The same as 'tis to-day! 'Tis thoughts that bind the soul; And keep friends i' the ee ! And gin I think, I see thee aye ; What can part thee and me ? ' rVE GOTTEN A ROCK I FVE GOTTEN A REEL! I've gotten a rock ! I've gotten a reel ! I've gotten a wee bit Spinning Wheel ! An' by the whirling rim, I've found How the weary, weary, Warl goes round ! 'Tis roun ! an' roun ! the spokes they go ; Now ane is up, an' ane is low! 'Tis by ups and downs in Fortune's Wheel. That mony ane gets a rock to reel ! 155 Susanna Blamirc. I've seen a Lassie barefoot gae, Look dash'd an' blate, wi' nought to say; But as the Wheel turn'd round again, She chirp'd an' talk'd, nor seem'd the same ! Sae fine she goes, sae far aglee, That folks she kenn'd she canna see ! An' fleeching chiels around her thrang, Till she miskens her a' day lang. There 's Jock, when the bit Lass was poor, Ne'er trudg'd o'er the lang mossy moor ; Though now, to the knees he wades, I trow, Through winter's weet an' winter's snow! An' Pate declar'd, the ither morn, She was like a lily amang the com! Though ance he swore, her dazzling een Were bits o' glass that black'd had been. Now, Lassies! I hae found it out, What men make a' this phrase about! For, when they praise your blinking ee, 'Tis certain, that your gowd they see! An, when they talk o' roses bland, They think o' the roses o' your land ! But should Dame Fortune turn her Wheel ; They'd aff in a dance of a threesome reel ! 156 Susanna Blamire. THE SILLER CROUN. * And ye shall walk in silk attire, And siller hae to spare ; Gin ye'll consent to be his Bride, Nor think o' Donald mair ! ' O, wha wad buy a silken goun Wi' a poor broken heart ! Or what 's to me a siller croun, Gin frae my Love I part! The mind wha's every wish is pure Far dearer is to me ; And ere I'm forc'd to break my faith, I'll lay me down an' dee! For I hae pledg'd my virgin troth, Brave Donald's fate to share; And he has gi'en to me his heart, Wi' a' its virtues rare. His gentle manners wan my heart, He gratefu' took the gift; Could I but think to seek it back, It wad be waur than theft ! For langest life can ne'er repay The love he bears to me ; And ere I'm forc'd to break my troth, I'll lay me doun an' dee! 157 Sir yolm Henry Moore, Bart. Prithee, sweet Fair One ! why so coy ? Hence, with that frown of cold disdain! Beauty like thine was formed for joy ; And Mirth and Gentleness should fill thy Train ! Let meaner Beauties study to give pain! 'Tis nobler far to build, than to destroy! Tune then thy heart to gentle Love ! With smiles my fondest vows receive ! Each anxious care shall far remove ! To Love and mutual joys alone we'll live! Joys, only heavenly charms like thine can give Joys, only constant hearts like mine can prove! L AMOUR TIMID E. If in that breast so good, so pure, Compassion ever loved to dwell ; Pity the sorrows I endure! The cause I must not, dare not, tell 158 Sir yohn Henry Moore, Bart. The grief, that on my quiet preys, That rends my heart, that checks my tongue, I fear will last me all my days; But feel it will not last me long! Cease to blame my melancholy ! Though, with sighs and folded arms, I muse in silence on her charms, Censure not! I know 'tis folly! Yet, these mournful thoughts possessing. Such delights I find in grief. That, could Heaven afford relief, My fond heart would scorn the blessing! 159 Anonymous. Two Youths for my love are contending in vain! For, do what they can, Their suffrin^s I rally ; and laugh at their pain ! Which, which is the man ? Who deserves me the most ? Let me ask of my heart ! Is it Robin, who smirks, and who dresses so smart ? Or Tom, honest Tom ! who makes plainness his plan ? Which, which is the man ? They bid me, be prudent, and act as I ought! I do what I can ! Yet, surely, Papa and Mamma are in fault ! To a different man, They each have advised me to yield up my heart ! Mamma praises Robin, who dresses so smart : Papa, honest Tom, who makes plainness his plan. Which, which is the man ? Be honest, my heart! then, and point out the Youth ! I'll do what I can His love to return, and return it with truth ; Whoever 's the man I No longer I need to examine my heart! 'Tis not Robin, who smirks, and who dresses so smart ; But Tom, honest Tom ! who makes plainness his plan ! He, he is the man! 160 — George Townshend, Marquis Toivnshend. TO A FRIEND, who thought himself young, upon seeing Lord Chief Baron Parker. Why boast your strength at fifty-eight? Which can't much longer last! Be jovial ; but be temperate, And thankful for the past! The sturdy oak's autumnal state, And bark, its age declare : Good wine the man may elevate; But not deceive the Fair! View honoured Parker's setting sun, How cheerful ! how august ! Resulting from a course well run, Where all was wise and just. In Courts, he had no private end [ His virtue none dare try! Aspire to live like him, my friend! Like him, prepare to die! BRIT. ANTH. X. i6t Richard Gall, As I came through Glendochart Vale, Whare mists o'ertap the mountains gray, A wee bit Lassie met my view, As cantily she held her way ; But, O, sic love each feature bore, She made my saul wi' rapture glow ! An' aye she spake sae kind an' sweet, I couldna keep my heart in tow ! O, speak na o' your courtly Queans ! My wee bit Lassie fools them a' ! The little cuttie s done me skaith ; She 's stown my thoughtless heart awa Her smile was like the gray-e'ed Morn, Whan spreading on the mountain green ; Her voice, saft as the mavis' sang; An' sweet the twinkle o' her een ! Aboon her brow, sae bonny brent, Her raven locks waved o'er her e'e; An' ilka slee bewitching glance Conveyed a dart o* love to me. O, speak na o' your courtly Queans! &c. 162 Richard Gall. The Lasses fair, in Scotia's isle, Their beauties a', what tongue can tell ? But o'er the fairest o' them a', My wee bit Lassie bears the bell ! O, had I never marked her smile, Nor seen the twinkle o' her e'e ; It might na been my lot, the day, A waefu' lade o' care to dree ? O, speak na o' your courtly Queans ! &c. O, Mary ! turn awa That bonny face o' thine! O, dinna, dinna, shaw that breast, That never can be mine ! Can aught o' warld's gear Relieve my bosom's care ? Na ! Na ! for ilka look o' thine Can only feed despair! O, Mary ! turn awa That bonny face o' thine I O, dinna, dinna, shaw that breast, That never can be mine ! Wi' love's severest pangs My heart is laden sair ; An' o'er my breast the grass maun wave, Ere I am free from care! M 2 163 Rev. IVillimn Lisle Bowles. Go then, and join the roaring City's throng! Me thou dost leave to solitude and tears, To busy phantasies, and boding fears Lest ill betide thee! But 'twill not be long, And the hard season shall be past! Till then, Live happy! sometimes the forsaken shade Remembering, and these trees now left to fade : Nor, 'mid the busy scenes and ' hum of men,' Wilt thou my cares forget ! In heaviness. To me the hours shall roll, weary and slow. Till (mournful Autumn past, and all the snow Of Winter pale) the glad hour I shall bless, That shall restore thee from the crowd again. To the green hamlet in the peaceful plain. How blest with thee, the path could I have trod Of quiet life, above cold Want's hard fate ! And little wishing more ; nor of the Great Envious, or their proud name! But it pleased GOD To take thee to his mercy. Thou didst go, In youth and beauty, go to thy death-bed! E'en whilst on dreams of bliss we fondly fed, Of years to come of comfort. Be it so ! Ere this I have felt sorrow ! and, e'en now (Though sometimes the unbidden thought must start, And half un-man the miserable heart !), The cold dew I shall wipe from my sad brow, And say, since hopes of bliss on earth are vain, ' Best friend ! farewell ! till we do meet again ! ' 164 IVillimn IVordsworfh, P.L. THERE WAS A BOY. There was a Boy ; ye knew him well, ye cliffs And islands of Winander ! Many a time, At evening, when the stars had just begun To move along the edges of the hills, Rising or setting, would he stand alone, Beneath the trees, or by the glimmering lake ; And there, with fingers interwoven, both hands Pressed closely palm to palm and to his mouth Uplifted, he, as through an instrument, Blew mimic hootings to the silent owls, That they might answer him. And they would shout Across the wat'ry vale, and shout again, Responsive to his call, with quivering peals, And long halloos, and screams, and echoes loud Redoubled and redoubled! a wild scene Of mirth and jocund din! And when it chanced That pauses of deep silence mocked his skill, Then, sometimes, in that silence, while he hung Listening, a gentle shock of mild surprise Has carried far into his heart the voice Of mountain torrents ! or the visible scene Would enter, unawares, into his mind; With all its solemn imagery, its rocks, Its woods, and that uncertain heaven received Into the bosom of the steady Lake . . . 165 IVilliam Wordsworth, P.L. WE ARE SEVEN. A SIMPLE child, dear brother Jim! That lightly draws its breath, And feels its life in every limb. What should it know of death ? I met a little cottage girl, She was eight years old, she said; Her hair was thick With many a curl That clustered round her head. She had a rustic woodland Air, And she was wildly clad ; Her eyes were fair, and very fair ; Her beauty made me glad. 'Sisters and brothers, little maid! How many may you be?' * How many ? Seven in all,' she said ; And, wondering, looked at me. * And where are they ? I pray you, tell ! * She answered, ' Seven are we ; And two of us at Conway dwell, And two are gone to sea. 'Two of us in the Churchyard lie, My sister and my brother; And, in the Churchyard Cottage, I Dwell near them, with my mother!' i66 WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. IVillimn Wordsworth, P.L. * You say that two at Conway dwell, And two are gone to sea ; Yet you are seven ; I pray you, tell, Sweet maid ! how this may be ? ' Then did the little maid reply, ' Seven boys and girls are we ; Two of us in the Churchyard lie, Beneath the Churchyard tree.' * You run about, my little maid ! Your limbs, they are alive ! If two are in the Churchyard laid, Then ye are only five ! * ' Their graves are green, they may be seen,' The little maid replied, * Twelve steps or more from my mother s door And they are side by side. ' My stockings there I often knit, My kerchief there I hem ; And there upon the ground I sit — I sit, and sing to them! *And often, after sunset, Sir! When it is light and fair, I take my little porringer. And eat my supper there. 167 PVilliam Wordsworth, P.L. *The first that died was little Jane: In bed she moaning lay, Till GOD released her of her pain ; And then she went away! ' So in the Churchyard she was laid ; And, all the summer dry, Together round her grave we played, My brother John and I. *And, when the ground was white with snow, And I could run and slide, My brother John was forced to go; And he lies by her side.' * How many are you then,' said I, ' If they two are in Heaven ? ' The little maiden did reply, * O, Master ! we are seven ! ' * But they are dead ! those two are dead ! Their spirits are in Heaven!' 'Twas throwing words away! for still The little maid would have her will ; And said, ' Nay ! we are seven ! ' i68 IVillimn Wordsworth, P.L. Earth has not any thing to show more fair! Dull would he be of soul, who could pass by A sight so touching in its majesty! This City now doth, like a garment, wear The beauty of the morning! silent, bare. Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie Open unto the fields, and to the sky, All bright and glittering in the smokeless air! Never did sun more beautifully steep In his first splendour valley, rock, or hill! Ne'er saw I, never felt, a. calm so deep! The river glideth at his own sweet will ! Dear GOD ! the very houses seem asleep ! And all that mighty heart is lying still ! Milton ! thou shouldst be living at this hour ! Enpfland hath need of thee ! she is a fen Of stagnant waters! Altar, Sword, and Pen, Fireside, the heroic wealth of Hall and Bower, Have forfeited their ancient English dower Of inward happiness ! We are selfish men ! O, raise us up ! Return to us again ; And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power! Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart! Thou hadst a voice, whose sound was like the sea Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free. So didst thou travel on Life's common way In cheerful godliness ; and yet thy heart The lowliest duties on itself did lay! 169 William Wordsworth, P.L. STRANGE FITS OF PASSION I HA VE KNOWN. Strange fits of Passion I have known ; And I will dare to tell, But in the Lover's ear alone, What once to me befell. When she I loved was strong and gay, And like a rose in June, I to her Cottage bent my way, Beneath the evening moon. Upon the moon I fixed my eye, All over the wide lea; My horse trudged on, and we drew nigh Those paths so dear to me. And now we reached the Orchard plot; And, as we climbed the hill, Towards the roof of Lucy's Cot The moon descended still. In one of those sweet dreams I slept, Kind Nature's gentlest boon ! And, all the while, my eyes I kept On the descending moon. 170 Williajn Wordsworth, P.L. My horse moved on ; hoof after hoof He raised, and never stopped : When down behind the Cottage roof, At once, the planet dropped. What fond and wayward thoughts will slide Into a Lover's head ! 'O, mercy!' to myself I cried, 'If Lucy should be dead!* SHE DWELT AMONG TH' UNTRODDEN WAYS. Sue dwelt among th* untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A Maid whom there was none to praise, And very few to love! A violet by a mossy stone, Half hidden from the eye ; Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky. She lived unknown, and few could know When Lucy ceased to be; But she is in her grave, and, oh! The difference to me ! 171 IVilliam IVordswortli, i\L, LINES WRITTEN A FEW MILES ABOVE TiNTERN AbBEV, ON REVISITING THE BANKS OF THE WyE, during a tour, July 13, 1798. Five years have passed ! five summers, with the length Of five long winters ! and again I hear These waters, rolling from their mountain springs With a sweet inland murmur ^ ! Once again Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs, Which, on a wild secluded scene, impress Thoughts of more deep seclusion ; and connect The landscape with the quiet of the sky! The day is come, when I again repose Here, under this dark sycamore : and view These plots of cottage ground ; these orchard tufts, Which, at this season, with their unripe fruits. Among the woods and copses lose themselves ; Nor, with their green and simple hue, disturb The wild green landscape. Once again I see These hedge-rows ! hardly hedge-rows, little lines Of sportive wood run wild ! these pastoral farms, ^ The river is not affected by the tides a few miles above Tintem. 172 Williafu Wordsworth, P.L. Green to the very door! and wreaths of smoke Sent up, in silence, from among the trees, With some uncertain notice, as might seem, Of vagrant dwellers in the houseless woods ; Or of some Hermit's cave, where, by his fire. The Hermit sits alone. Though absent long, These forms of Beauty have not been to me As is a landscape to a blind man's eye : But oft, in lonely rooms, and mid the din Of towns and cities, I have owed to them, In hours of weariness, sensations sweet, Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart, And passing even into my purer mind With tranquil restoration ; feelings too Of unremembered pleasure, such, perhaps, As may have had no trivial influence On that best portion of a good man's life, His little, nameless, unremembered acts Of kindness and of love. Nor less, I trust. To them I may have owed another gift, Of aspect more sublime — that blessed mood, In which the burthen of the Mystery, In which the heavy and the weary weight Of all this unintelligible world Is lightened ! that serene and blessed mood. In which the affections gently lead us on Until (the breath of this corporeal frame. And even the motion of our human blood, 173 PVillimn JVordswofth, P.L. Almost suspended) we are laid asleep In body; and become a living soul! While, with an eye made quiet by the power Of harmony and the deep power of joy, We see into the life of things! If this Be but a vain belief; yet, O, how oft, In darkness and amid the many shapes Of joyless daylight, when the fretful stir Unprofitable, and the fever of the World, Have hung upon the beatings of my heart ; How oft, in spirit, have I turned to thee, O, sylvan Wye ! Thou wanderer through the woods, How often has my spirit turned to thee! And now, with gleams of half-extinguished thought. With many recognitions dim and faint, And somewhat of a sad perplexity, The picture of the mind revives again, While here I stand, not only with the sense Of present pleasure ; but with pleasing thoughts That, in this moment, there is life and food For future years. And so I dare to hope! [first Though changed, no doubt, from what I was, when I came among these hills ; when, like a roe, I bounded o'er the mountains, by the sides Of the deep rivers and the lonely streams, Wherever Nature led ; more like a man Flying from something that he dreads, than one 174 William Wordsworth, P.L. Who sought the thing he loved. For Nature, then (The coarser pleasures of my boyish days, And their glad animal movements, all gone by), To me was all in all ! I cannot paint What then I was. The sounding cataract Haunted me like a Passion ! the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms, were then to me An appetite ! a feeling and a love That had no need of a remoter charm, By thought supplied ; or any interest Unborrowed from the eye ! That time is past ; And all its aching joys are now no more, And all its dizzy raptures ! Not for this Faint I, nor mourn, nor murmur! other gifts Have followed ; for such loss, I would believe, Abundant recompense! For I have learned To look on Nature, not as in the hour Of thoughtless youth ; but hearing oftentimes The still sad music of Humanity! Not harsh, nor grating, though of ample power To chasten and subdue ! And I have felt A Presence that disturbs me with the joy Of elevated thoughts! a sense sublime Of something far more deeply interfused; Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, And the round ocean, and the living air, And the blue sky, and in the mind of Man, A motion and a Spirit that impels All thinking things, all objects of all thought ! 175 Willimn JVordsworth, P.L. And rolls through all things! Therefore, am I still A lover of the meadows, and the woods, And mountains ; and of all that we behold From this green earth ! of all the mighty world Of eye and ear, both what they half-create, And what perceive ! well pleased to recognize In Nature and the language of the Sense, The anchor of my purest thoughts ! the nurse, The guide, the guardian of my heart ! and soul Of all my moral being! Nor, perchance. If I were not thus taught, should I the more Suffer my genial spirits to decay : For thou art with me, here, upon the banks Of this fair river! thou, my dearest friend! My dear dear friend! and in thy voice I catch The language of my former heart ; and read My former pleasures in the shooting lights Of thy wild eyes! O, yet a little while May I behold in thee what I was once, My dear dear Sister! And this prayer I make, Knowing that Nature never did betray The heart that loved her! 'Tis her privilege, Through all the years of this our life, to lead From joy to joy I for she can so inform The mind that is within us, so impress With quietness and beauty, and so feed With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues. Rash judgements, nor the sneers of selfish men, 176 IVilliain Wordsworth, P.L. Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all The dreary intercourse of daily life, Shall e'er prevail against us! or disturb Our cheerful faith that all which we behold Is full of blessings! Therefore, let the moon Shine on thee, in thy solitary walk ; And let the misty mountain winds be free To blow against thee! and, in after years — When these wild ecstasies shall be matured Into a sober pleasure, when thy mind Shall be a mansion for all lovely forms, Thy memory be as a dwelling-place For all sweet sounds and harmonies, O, then — If solitude, or fear, or pain, or grief Should be thy portion — with what healing thoughts Of tender joy wilt thou remember me ; And these my exhortations ! Nor, perchance, If I should be where I no more can hear Thy voice, nor catch from thy wild eyes these gleams Of past existence, wilt thou, then, forget That on the banks of this delightful stream We stood together ; and that I, so long A worshipper of Nature, hither came, Unwearied in that service I rather say. With warmer love ! O, with far deeper zeal Of holier love! Nor wilt thou then forget That, after many wanderings, many years Of absence, these steep woods and lofty cliffs. And this green pastoral landscape, were to me More dear, both for themselves, and for thy sake ! BRIT. ANTH. X. ^ \nn William Wordsworth, P.L. EXPOSTULATION AND REPLY. ' Why, William ! on that old grey stone, Thus for the length of half a day, Why, William ! sit you thus alone, And dream your time away ? ' Where are your books ? that light bequeathed To beings else forlorn and blind ! Up! Up! and drink the spirit breathed From dead men to their kind ! *You look round on your mother Earth, As if she for no purpose bore you ! As if you were her first-born birth, And none had lived before you ! ' One morning, thus, by Esthwaite Lake, When life was sweet, I knew not Why ? To me my good friend Matthew spake ; And thus I made reply. 'The eye, it cannot choose but see! We cannot bid the ear be still! Our bodies feel, where'er they be, Against, or with, our will! 178 IVilliam Wordsworth, P.L. ' Nor less I deem that there are powers Which of themselves our minds impress, That we can feed this mind of ours In a wise passiveness. ' Think you, mid all this mighty sum Of things for ever speaking. That nothing of itself will come ! But we must still be seeking ? ' Then, ask not. Wherefore, here, alone, Conversing as» I may, I sit upon this old grey stone, And dream my time away ! T//B TABLES TURNED. An evening scene on the same subject. ' Up ! Up ! my friend, and clear your looks ! Why all this toil and trouble ? Up! Up! my friend, and quit your books; Or surely you'll grow double! ' The sun, above the mountain's head, A freshening lustre mellow Through all the long green fields has spread, His first sweet evening yellow! N 2 179 William Wordsworth, P.L. ' Books ! 'tis a dull and endless strife ! Come, hear the woodland linnet! How sweet his music ! on my life, There 's more of wisdom in it! ' And hark ! how blithe the throstle sings ! And he is no mean Preacher! Come forth into the light of things! Let Nature be your teacher! * She has a world of ready wealth, Our minds and hearts to bless ! Spontaneous wisdom breathed by health ! Truth breathed by cheerfulness I ' One impulse from a vernal wood May teach you more of Man, Of moral evil, and of good, Than all the Sages can ! ' Sweet is the lore which Nature brings I Our meddling intellect Misshapes the beauteous forms of things! We murder, to dissect! 'Enough of Science and of Art! Close up these barren leaves ! Come forth, and bring with you a heart That watches and receives ! ' i8o JVilliam IVordsworth, P.L. POOR SUSAN. At the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears, There 's a thrush that sings loud — it has sung for three years ! Poor Susan has passed by the spot, and has heard, In the silence of morning, the song of the bird. 'Tis a note of enchantment ! What ails her ? She sees A mountain ascending, a vision of trees ! Bright volumes of vapour through Lothbury glide; And a river flows on through the vale of Cheapside ! Green pastures she views in the midst of the dale, Down which she so often has tripped with her pail! And a single small Cottage, a nest like a dove's, The only one dwelling on earth that she loves! She looks, and her heart is in Heaven ! but they fade, The mist and the river, the hill and the shade : The stream will not flow, and the hill will not rise; And the colours have all passed away from her eyes. Poor outcast, return ! To receive thee once more, The house of thy father will open its door! And thou, once again, in thy plain russet gown, Mayst hear the thrush sing from a tree of its own ! i8i Willia7fi IVordsworth, P.L. SHE WAS A PHANTOM OF DELIGHT. She was a Phantom of delight, When first she gleamed upon my sight! A lovely Apparition, sent To be a moment's ornament! Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair, Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair; But all things else about her drawn From May-time, and the cheerful Dawn! A dancing Shape, an Image gay. To haunt, to startle, and waylay! I saw her, upon nearer view, A Spirit, yet a Woman too! Her household motions light and free. And steps of virgin liberty ; A countenance, in which did meet Sweet records, promises as sweet ! A creature not too bright, or good, For human nature's daily food! For transient sorrows, simple wiles. Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles! 182 William Wordsworth, P.L. And now I see, with eye serene, The very pulse of the machine ! A Being breathing thoughtful breath ! A Traveller betwixt life and death! The reason firm, the temperate will, Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill ; A perfect Woman, nobly planned To warn, to comfort, and command : And yet a Spirit still, and bright With something of an angel light! MY HEART LEAPS UP. My heart leaps up, when I behold A rainbow in the sky ! So was it, when my life began ; So is it, now I am a man ; So be it, when I shall grow old, Or let me die ! The Child is father of the Man ! And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety! 183 Robert Sou f hey, P.L. SAPPHICS. THE WIDOW. Cold was the night-wind, drifting fast the snow fell, Wide were the Downs, and shelterless and naked ; When a poor Wanderer struggled on her journey, Weary and way-sore. Drear were the Downs, more dreary her reflections Cold was the night-wind, colder was her bosom : She had no home, the world was all before her, She had no shelter. Fast o'er the Heath, a Chariot rattled by her ; ' Pity me ! * feebly cried the lonely Wanderer. ' Pity me ! strangers ! lest, with cold and hunger, Here I should perish ! * Once I had friends ; but they have all forsook me ! Once I had parents: they are now in Heaven! I had a home once ! I had once a husband ! Pity me, strangers! 184 ROBERT SOUTH EY. Robert Son they, P.L. ' I had a home once ! I had once a husband ! I am a Widow, poor, and broken-hearted ! ' Loud blew the wind, unheard was her complaining, On drove the Chariot ! Then on the snow she laid her down to rest her. She heard a Horseman. ' Pity me ! ' she groaned out. Loud was the wind, unheard was her complaining, On went the Horseman ! Worn out with anguish, toil, and cold, and hunger, Down sank the Wanderer I sleep had seized her senses ! There did the Traveller find her in the morning: GOD had released her! 1796. This Poem is inserted on account of the celebrated Parody of its poetic form, which will be found at pp. 212, 213. i8c, Robert Southey, P.L. THE LOVERS' ROCK. The Maiden, through the favouring night, From Granada took her flight ; She bade her father's house farewell, And fled away with Manuel. No Moorish Maid might hope to vie With Laila's cheek, or Laila's eye! No Maiden loved with purer truth, Or ever loved a lovelier Youth! In fear, they fled across the plain, The father's wrath, the captive's chain! In hope, to Murcia on they flee, To Peace, and Love, and Liberty! And now they reach the mountains height, And she was weary with her flight ; She laid her head on Manuel's breast. And pleasant was the Maiden's rest. i86 Robert Southey, P.L. But, while she slept, the passing gale Waved the Maiden's flowinof veil. Her father, as he crossed the height, Saw the veil so long and white. Young Manuel started from his sleep, He saw them hastening up the steep; And Laila shrieked : and, desperate now, They climbed the precipice's brow. They saw him raise his angry hand. And follow with his armed band; They saw them climbing up the steep, And heard his curses loud and deep. Then Manuel's heart grew wild with woe, He loosened stones, and rolled below ; He loosened crags, for Manuel strove For Life, and Liberty, and Love! The ascent was steep, the rock was high ; The Moors, they durst not venture nigh. The fugitives stood safely there; They stood in safety and despair. The Moorish Chief, unmoved, could see His daughter bend the suppliant knee! He heard his child for pardon plead; And swore the offenders both should bleed! 187 Robert Sonthey, P.L. He bade the Archers bend the bow, And make the Christian fall below ! He bade the Archers aim the dart, And pierce the Maid's apostate heart! The Archers aimed their arrows there ; She clasped young Manuel in despair, ' Death, Manuel ! shall set us free ! Then leap below, and die with me ! ' He clasped her close, and cried, ' Farewell ! ' In one another's arms, they fell ! They leapt adown the craggy side ; In one another's arms, they died ! And, side by side, they there are laid. The Christian Youth and Moorish Maid : But never Cross was planted there ! Because they perished for despair. Yet every Murcian Maid can tell Where Laila lies, who loved so well: And every Youth, who passes there. Says for Manuel's soul a prayer. 1798. 188 Robert Lovell. TO FAME. On the high summit of yon rocky hill, Proud Fame ! thy Temple stands ; and see around What thronging thousands press ! and hark ! the sound That fires ambition ! 'Tis thy clarion shrill ! Amid thy path, the deadly thorn is strewed; And oft intwined around the wreath they claim ! And many spurn at Justice's sacred name, And 'wade to glory through a sea of blood.' Be mine to leave thy path, thy motley crowd ! And (while to hear their names proclaimed aloud Upon the brazen trump, the throng rejoice) I'll court fair Virtue, in her humbler sphere ! More pleased, in calm reflection's hour, to hear The approving whispers of her still small voice. TO HEALTH. NvMPH of the splendent eye and rosy cheek ! Who erst from Courts and luxury didst speed; And, with thine elder Sister, Temperance, seek The woodbined Cottage on the daisied mead; There, will I woo thee ! for thou dwellest there. Amid the Sons of Industry. Thy smile Soothes every sorrow ! cheers the hour of toil ! And, blessed by thee, sweet is their frugal fare! When the woods echo with the early horn, Thou tripp'st the wild heath, clad in flowing vest (While youthful Zephyr wantons o'er thy breast) ; And, with blithe Song, dost greet the blushing Morn. The airy Sp'rit who o'er thy fair form roves. Thy beauty tastes; and, as he tastes, improves. 189 Charles Lloyd. LINES, ON PASSING A PLACE OF FORMER RESIDENCE. December, 1796. I PASSED my childhood's home ; and, lo ! 'twas dark ! The night-wind whistled 'mid its leafless trees ! No taper twinkled cheerily to tell That She had heaped the hospitable fire, Spread the trim board, and with an anxious heart Expected me, her ' dearest boy,' to spend With her the evening hour. Oh! no! 'twas gone, The friendly taper, and the warm fire's glow Trembling athwart the gloom ! I listened long ; Nor heard, save the unfeeling blast of night. Which chilled my frame ; or the sere ice-glazed twig That hoarsely rustled I 'Twas too much ! I wept ! Then I bethought me, she was coffined far Away, entombed on the earth's cold lap. I looked again ; such thoughts were too, too, true I For no ray glimmered. I did pass along Shivering, and bowed to earth with heaviness! 190 yoanna Baillie. MORNING AND EVENING. Say, sweet Carol ! Who are they Who cheerly greet the rising day? Little birds in leafy bower; Swallows twitt'ring on the tower; Larks upon the light air borne ; Hunters roused with shrilly horn; The Woodman whistling on his way ; The new-waked Child at early play, Who, barefoot, prints the dewy Green, Winking to the sunny sheen; And the meek Maid, who binds her yellow hair, And blithely doth her daily task prepare. Say, sweet Carol! Who are they Who welcome in the Ev'ning grey ? The Housewife trim, and merry lout. Who sit the blazing fire about ; The Sage a-conning o'er his book ; The tired wight, in rushy nook. Who, half asleep, but faintly hears The Gossip's tale hum in his ears ; The loosened steed in grassy stall ; The Thanes feasting in the Hall : But, most of all, the Maid of cheerful soul, Who fills her peaceful Warrior's flowing bowl 191 yoanna Baillie. Up ! quit thy Bower ! late wears the hour ! Long have the rooks cawed round thy Tower! On flower and tree, loud hums the bee ! The wilding kid sports merrily! A day so bright, so fresh, so clear, Shineth when good fortune 's near! Up! Lady fair! and braid thy hair; And rouse thee in the breezy air! The lulling stream, that soothed thy dream, Is dancing in the sunny beam! And hours so sweet, so bright, so gay, Will waft good fortune on its way! Up ! time will tell I The Friar's bell, Its Service sound hath chimed well! The aged Crone keeps house alone ; And Reapers to the fields are gone ! The active day, so boon and bright. May bring good fortune ere the night! 192 yoanna Baillie. Child! with many a childish wile, Timid look, and blushing smile, Downy wings to steal thy way, Gilded bow, and quiver gay, Who, in thy simple mien, would trace The Tyrant of the human race ? Who is he, whose flinty heart Hath not felt thy flying dart ? Who is he, that from the wound Hath not pain and pleasure found ? Who is he, that hath not shed Curse and blessing on thy head ? Ah ! Love ! our weal ! our woe ! our bliss ! our bane ! A restless life have they, who wear thy chain ! Ah ! Love ! our weal ! our woe ! our bliss ! our bane ! More hapless still are they, who never felt thy pain ! * High is the Tower, and the watch-dogs bay, And the flitting owlets shriek ! I see thee wave thy mantle gray ; But I cannot hear thee speak ! ' O, are they from the East, or West, The tidings he bears to me ? Or from the land that I love best, From the Knight of the North Countree ? ' BRIT. ANTH. X O 193 yoanna Baillie. Swift down the winding stair She rushed, Like a gust of the summer wind ; Her steps were light, her breath was hushed ; And she dared not look behind. She passed, by stealth, the narrow door, . The Postern way also ; And thought each bush, her robe that tore, The gTasp of a warding foe ! And She has climbed the Moat so steep. With chilly dread and fear ; While th' evening fly hummed dull and deep, Like a Wardman whisp'ring near. * Now, who art thou ? thou Palmer tall ! Who beckonest so to me! Art thou from that dear and distant Hall ? Art thou from the North Countree ? ' He raised his hood, with wary wile, That covered his raven hair ; And a manlier face, and a sweeter smile, Ne'er greeted Lady fair! ' My coal-black steed feeds in the brake, Of gen'rous blood and true ; He'll soon the nearest frontier make, Let they who list pursue ! 194 yoanna Baillie. * Thy pale cheek shows an altered mind ! Thine eye, the blinding tear! Come not with me, if aught behind Is to thy heart more dear I ' Thy Sire and Dame are in that Hall ; Thy friend, thy mother's son; Come not with me, if one o' them all E'er loved thee as I have done ! ' The Lady mounted the coal-black steed, Behind her Knight, I ween! And they have passed through brake, and mead, And plain, and woodland green. But, hark! behind, the Warders shout, And the hasty larums ring; And the mingled sound of a gath'ring rout, The passing air doth bring. ' O, noble steed ! now quit thee well, And prove thy gen'rous kind! That fearful sound doth louder swell! It is not far behind! ' The frontier 's near ! a span, the plain ! Press on, and do not fail ! Ah! on our steps fell horsemen gain! I hear their ringing mail ! ' oa 195 yoanna Baillie. The chough and crow to roost are gone, The owl sits on the tree ; The hushed wind wails with feeble moan, Like infant charity ! The wild-fire dances on the fen, The red star sheds its ray ; Uprouse ye, then, my merry men! It is our op'ning day ! Both Child and Nurse are fast asleep, And closed is every flower ; And winking tapers faintly peep High from my Lady's bower; Bewildered hinds, with shortened ken, Shrink on their murky way ; Uprouse ye, then, my merry men ! It is our op'ning day! Nor board nor garner own we now, Nor roof nor latched door; Nor kind Mate, bound by holy vow To bless a good man's store! Noon lulls us in a gloomy den. And night is grown our day ; Uprouse ye, then, my merry men ! And use it as ye may! 196 yoanna Baillie, ^ THE MAID OF LLANWELLYN. \ I've no sheep on the mountain, nor boat on the lake, "^ Nor coin in my coffer to keep me awake, ^ Nor corn in my garner, nor fruit on my tree ; \ Yet the Maid of Llanwellyn smiles sweetly on me! \ \ Soft tapping, at eve, to her window I came, And loud bayed the watch-dog! loud scolded the Dame! For shame, silly Lightfoot! what is it to thee, Though the Maid of Llanwellyn smiles sweetly on me? The Farmer rides proudly to Market or Fair ; The Clerk, at the alehouse, still claims the great chair ; But, of all our proud fellows, the proudest I'll be. While the Maid of Llanwellyn smiles sweetly on me ! For blithe as the Urchin at holiday play. And meek as a Matron, in mantle of gray. And trim as a Lady of gentle degree, Is the Maid of Llanwellyn, who smiles upon me! 197 John Ewen. THE BO ATI E ROWS. O, WEEL may the boatie row, And better may she speed ; And leesome may the boatie row, That wins the bairns' bread! The boatie rows, the boatie rows, The boatie rows indeed ; And weel may the boatie row, That wins my bairns' bread! I cust my line in Largo Bay, And fishes I catch'd nine; There was three to boil, and three to fry, And three to bait the line. The boatie rows, the boatie rows, The boatie rows indeed ; And happy be the lot o' a' Who wishes her to speed! O, weel may the boatie row, That fills a heavy creel ; And cleads us a' frae head to feet, And buys our pottage meal. The boatie rows, the boatie rows, The boatie rows indeed ; And happy be the lot of a' That wish the boatie speed! When Jamie vow'd he wou'd be mine, And wan frae me my heart, O, muckle lighter grew my creel! He swore, we'd never part! 198 yohn Ewen. The boatie rows, the boatie rows, The boatie rows fu' weel ; And muckle lighter is the load, When Love bears up the creel! My kurtch I put upo' my head, And dress'd mysel' fu' braw; I true my heart was douf an wae, When Jamie ga'ed awa' ! But weel may the boatie row, And lucky be her part; And lightsome be the Lassie's care, That yields an honest heart! When Sawney, Jock, an' Janetie Are up, and gotten lear; They'll help to gar the boatie row. And lighten a' our care ! The boatie rows, the boatie rows, The boatie rows fu' weel! And lightsome be her heart that bears The murlain and the creel ! And, when wi' age we're worn down. And hirpling round the door. They'll row, to keep us dry and warm ; As we did them before. Then weel may the boatie row, She wins the bairns' bread; And happy be the lot o' a' That wish the boat to speed! 199 Matthew Gregory Lewis. LOVE AT SALE. {Tke idea is taken from a Greek Epigram)) Come, buy my ware ! Come, buy ! Come, buy ! Fond Youths and curious Maids, draw nigh ! I have this lovely wicked Boy to sell! Go not, fair Girls! his cage too near! Though mild his looks, his arrows fear! Be still, the urchin's faults and merits while I tell ! He, in this little form, unites The pangs of Hell, and Heaven's delights! He reigns the Lord of every mortal heart! He wounds the Peasant! wounds the King! And is the fairest, falsest, thing That e'er excited joy, or bade a bosom smart! Light as the wind, wild as the wave. He 's both a tyrant and a slave! A fire that freezes, and a frost that 's hot! A bitter sweet, and luscious sour ! Wretched is he who knows his power! Yet far more wretched still is he who knows it not ! His tongue is with persuasion tipped! His darts, in poisoned honey dipped, Speed to the bosom their unerring flight! His lips are rich in flattering lies! And oft a fillet o'er his eyes [sight. He binds; and so conceals his faults from his own 200 Matthew Gregory Lewis. He has two cheeks of blushing red! He has two wings, which still are spread, When most his stay is wished, most swift to fly! He joys in wanton tricks and wiles ; And, mark! that when he sweetest smiles, Then is the rogue most sure those tricks and wiles to try ! For well, alas! too well I know, He is the source of every woe! To Faith a stranger ! 'gainst Contrition steeled I But yet, when first the False One came. And kindled in my heart a flame, Who had believed Deceit in such a form concealed! He begged so gently, on my breast A while his little head to rest! He seemed so good ! so grateful ! and so meek ! He said, ' He long had sought around A resting-place ; but none had found ! ' And then I saw a tear pearl down his rosy cheek. Who could, unmoved, his accents hear! Who had not wiped away that tear! His tale of guile my ready ear believed ! He looked so sweet, he spoke so fair; With ease the traitor gained his prayer! And in my heart of hearts with transport was received 20I Matthew Gregory Lewis. But since I find his friends most true Have reason most his spite to rue ; I'll take dear-bought Conviction's sage advice, And drive him from my breast away! He shall no more my trust betray ; But be the slave of him who bids the highest price ! Observe! whoe'er shall buy this Boy, This offspring of Despair and Joy, May have besides (I've use for them no more !) A lot of jealous doubts and fears, Of fainting Virtue's last pure tears; Of treacherous smiles, and oaths which perjured Lovers swore ; Of torches, their unsteady fires Kindled by sweet Fifteen's desires ; Of hopes created by a guileful sigh ; Of worn-out wings ; of broken darts. Whose points still rankle in the hearts Of fond forsaken Maids ! Come, buy ! Come, buy ! Come, buy! But see him now for pardon sue ! See, how his eye of glossy blue. With mingled hope and grief he lifts to me! Ah ! lovely Boy ! thy fears dismiss ! Convinced, by that forgiving kiss. That I can never part from Julia and from thee. 202 IVilliam Upton. THE LASS OF RICHMOND HILL. On Richmond hill there lives a Lass, More bright than May Day morn ; Whose charms all other maids surpass, A rose without a thorn! This Lass so neat, with smiles so sweet, Has won my right good will. I'd crowns resign, to call thee mine! Sweet Lass of Richmond hill! Ye Zephyrs gay, that fan the air, And wanton through the grove! O, whisper to my charming Fair, * I die for her I love ! ' This Lass so neat, with smiles so sweet, &c. How happy will the Shepherd be, Who calls this Nymph his own! O, may her choice be fixed on me! Mine 's fixed on her alone ! This Lass so neat, with smiles so sweet, &c. 203 Helen D'Arcy Stewart. THE TEARS I SHED MUST EVER FALL ! The tears I shed must ever fall ! I mourn not for an absent Swain! For thought may past delights recall ; And parted Lovers meet again ! I weep not for the silent dead ! Their toils are past, their sorrows o'er; And those they loved their steps shall tread, And Death shall join to part no more! Though boundless oceans rolled between, If certain that his heart is near, A conscious transport glads each scene, Soft is the sigh, and sweet the tear! E'en when, by Death's cold hand removed, We mourn the tenant of the tomb. To think that e'en in death he loved. Can gild the horrors of the gloom ! ao4 Helen D'Arcy Stewart. But bitter, bitter, are the tears Of her who slighted love bewails! No hope her dreary prospect cheers! No pleasing melancholy hails ! Hers are the pangs of wounded pride, Of blasted hope, of withered joy ! The prop she leaned on, pierced her side The flame she fed, burns to destroy ! Even conscious virtue cannot cure The pangs to every feeling due! Ungenerous Youth! thy boast how poor! To steal a heart, and break it too! In vain does memory renew The hours once tinged in transport's dye; The sad reverse soon starts to view, And turns the thought to agony! No cold approach, no altered mien, Just what would make suspicion start! No pause, the dire extremes between — He made me blest, and broke my heart! 205 Hon. IVilliain Robert Spencer. THE NURSING OF TRUE LOVE. Imitated from the French. Lapped on Cythera's golden sands, When first True Love was born on earth, Long was the doubt, what fost'ring hands Should tend and rear the glorious birth ? First, Hebe claimed the sweet employ. ' Her cup, her thornless flowers,' she said, * Would feed him best with health and joy ; And cradle best his cherub head ! ' But anxious Venus justly feared The tricks and changeful mind of youth Too mild the Seraph Peace appeared ! Too stern, too cold, the Matron Truth! Next, Fancy claimed him for her own; But Prudence disallowed her right, She deemed her iris pinions shone Too dazzling for his infant sight! 206 Hon. William Robert Spencer. To Hope a while the charge was given ; And well with Hope the cherub throve ! Till Innocence came down from heaven, Sole Guardian, Friend, and Nurse of Love! Pleasure, a Fury in her spite! When all preferred to her she found, Vowed cruel vengeance for the slight; And soon success her purpose crowned. The Trait'ress watched a sultry hour, When, pillowed on her blush-rose bed, Tired Innocence, to Slumber's power One moment bowed her virgin head : Then, Pleasure, on the thoughtless child Her toys and sugared poisons prest: Drunk with new joy, he sighed, he smiled; And True Love died on Pleasure's breast ! GOOD BYE! AND HOW D'YE DO? One day, Good bye! met How d'ye do.? Too close to shun saluting; But soon the rival sisters flew From kissing to disputing! 207 Hon, IVilliain Robert Spencer. 'Away!' says How d'ye do? 'your mien Appals my cheerful nature ! No name so sad as yours is seen In Sorrow's nomenclature I • Whene'er I give one sunshine hour, Your cloud comes o'er to shade it! Where'er I plant one bosom flower, Your mildew drops to fade it ! 'Ere How d'ye do? has tuned each tongue To Hope's delightful measure. Good bye! in Friendship's ear has rung The knell of parting pleasure ! ' From sorrows past, my chemic skill Draws smiles of consolation ; Whilst you from present joys distil The tears of separation ! ' Good bye ! replied, * Your statement 's true ; And well your cause you've pleaded! But pray, who'd think of How d' ye do ?, Unless Good bye! preceded? 'Without my prior influence, Could yours have ever flourished ? And can your hand one flower dispense, But those my tears have nourished ? 3o8 Hon. JVilliam Robert Spencer. ' How oft, if at the Court of Love Concealment be the fashion, When How d' ye do ? has failed to move, Good bye ! reveals the Passion ! ' How oft, when Cupid's fires decline, As ev'ry heart remembers, One sigh of mine, and only mine! Revives the dying embers ! ' Go, bid the timid Lover choose ! And I'll resign my Charter, If he, for ten How d'ye do ?'s. One kind Good bye! would barter! ' From Love, and Friendship's kindred source, We both derive existence ; And they would both lose half their force, Without our joint assistance! Tis well the World our merit knows! Since time (there 's no denying!). One half in How-d'ye-doing goes ; And t'other in Good-byeing ! ' BRIT. ANTH. X. 309 Anna Maria Porter. ' Though Dokander 's sincere, there 's excess in his love ; And therefore his offers you should not approve! Who now thinks you a Goddess, will soon, as is common, After marriage, perceive you're a poor simple Woman ! * To Strephon's behaviour, I likewise object ; And think you, his person and suit should reject ! For the man who sees foibles so plain, while a Lover, What faults will he not, after wedlock, discover! ' There 's a medium in all things ! and the Lover that 's kind, May view all your faults, without hating your mind ! For Nature 's imperfect; and the man that is true, Will own in himself equal frailties with you! The Maid that 's blessed with Content, No evil Passion knows ; But all her thoughts are fixed intent On study and repose. 2IO Anna Maria Porter. Her heart is not attached to Wealth, A vain, though gHttering, show! She asks for Innocence, and Health, Whence real pleasures flow. Sweet occupations fill the day ! Cheerful She tunes the Song, Now listens to poetic Lay, Now joins the youthful throng. For Friendship's tender cares designed, She picks a chosen few ; Her love to those is unconfined! She thinks her heart their duel Severe to none, polite to all. Her manners each engage ; Her accents, with their gentle fall, Might still the fiercest rage! Religion is her chief delight. To that She heedful tends; At early morn, at dusky night, With awful love She bends. She offers to the First of Beings praise ; Begs He will lead her in His perfect ways, Forgive her sins, excuse her errors past. And guide her to that Place where joys for ever last p 2 211 The Authors of 'The Anti-yacobin! This Poem is, as regards its poetic form, a parody of that by R. Southey at pp. 184, 185. SAPPHICS. THE FRIEND OF HUMANITY AND THE KNIFE-GRINDER. Friend of Humanity. Needy Knife-Grinder ! whither are you going ? Rough is the road, your wheel is out of order, Bleak blows the blast ! Your hat has got a hole in *t. So have your breeches ! Weary Knife-Grinder ! little think the proud ones, Who, in their coaches, roll along the turnpike- road, what hard work 'tis crying, all day, ' Knives and Scissors to grind, O ! ' Tell me, Knife-Grinder! how you came to grind knives? Did some rich man tyrannically use you ? Was it the 'Squire ? or Parson of the parish ? Or the Attorney? Was it the 'Squire, for killing of his Game ? or Covetous Parson, for his tithes distraining? Or roguish Lawyer made you lose your little All in a law-suit? Have you not read the Rights of Man, by Tom Paine ? Drops of compassion tremble on my eyelids, Ready to fall, as soon as you have told your Pitiful story. 212 The Authors of 'The Anti-yacobin! Knife- Grinder. Story ! God bless you ! I have none to tell, Sir ! Only, last night, a-drinking at the Chequers, This poor old hat and breeches, as you see, were Torn in a scuffle. Constables came up for to take me into Custody. They took me before the Justice. Justice Oldmixon put me in the Parish Stocks for a vagrant. I should be glad to drink your Honour's health in A Pot of Beer, if you would give me sixpence; But, for my part, I never love to meddle With poHtics, Sir! Friend of Humanity. I ! give thee sixpence ! I will see thee hanged first ! Wretch ! whom no sense of wrongs can rouse to vengeance ! Sordid, unfeeling, reprobate, degraded, Spiritless outcast! {Kicks the Knife-Grinder , overturns his wheel, and exit in a transport of Re- publican enthttsiasm and universal philanthropy^ — 213 Ami Radcliffe. THE SEA NYMPH. Down, down a thousand fathoms deep, Among the sounding seas I go! Play round the foot of every steep, Whose cliffs above the ocean grow ! There, within their secret caves, I hear the mighty rivers' roar ; And guide their streams, through Neptune's waves, To bless the green earth's inmost shore : And bid the freshened waters glide. For fern-crowned Nymphs of lake, or brook. Through winding woods and pastures wide, And many a wild romantic nook ! For this, the Nymphs, at fall of eve. Oft dance upon the flow'ry banks ; And sing my name, and garlands weave To bear beneath the wave their thanks. In coral bowers I love to lie, And hear the surges roll above ; And, through the waters, view on high The proud ships sail, and gay clouds move. 214 Ann Radcliffe. And oft, at midnight's stillest hour, When summer seas the vessels lave, I love to prove my charmful power. While floating on the moonlit wave ; And when deep sleep the crew has bound, And the sad Lover musing leans O'er the ship's side, I breathe around Such strains as speak no mortal means! O'er the dim waves his searching eye Sees but the vessel's lengthened shade ; Above, the moon and azure sky; Entranced he hears, and half afraid ! Sometimes, a single note I swell That, softly sweet, at distance dies! Then, wake the magic of my shell ; And choral voices round me rise! The trembling Youth, charmed with my strain, Calls up the crew ; who, silent, bend O'er the high deck, but list in vain! My Song is hushed! my wonders end! Within the mountain's woody bay, Where the tall bark at anchor rides, At twilight hour, with Tritons gay, I dance upon the lapsing tides : 215 Ann Radcliffe. And with my Sister Nymphs I sport, Till the broad sun looks o'er the floods ; Then, swift we seek our Crystal Court Deep in the wave, 'mid Neptune's woods. In cool arcades and glassy halls, We pass the sultry hours of noon. Beyond wherever sunbeam falls; Weaving sea-flowers in gay festoon. The while, we chant our Ditties sweet, To some soft shell, that warbles near ; Joined by the murmuring currents fleet, That glide along our halls so clear. There, the pale pearl and sapphire blue, And ruby red and em'rald green, Dart from the domes a changing hue; And sparry columns deck the scene. When the dark storm scowls o'er the deep, And long, long, peals of thunder sound ; On some high cliff, my watch I keep O'er all the restless seas around, Till, on the ridgy wave, afar. Comes the lone vessel, labouring slow, Spreading the white foam in the air, With sail and topmast bending low : 216 Ann Radcliffe. Then plunge I, mid the ocean's roar, My way by quiv'ring Hghtnings shown, To guide the bark to peaceful shore; And hush the sailor's fearful groan. And if too late I reach its side, To save it from the 'whelming surge; I call my dolphins o'er the tide, To bear the crew where isles emerge! How sweet is Love's first gentle sway, When, crowned with flowers, he softly smiles! His blue eyes fraught with tearful wiles, Where beams of tender transport play! Hope leads him on his airy way. And Faith and Fancy still beguiles : Faith quickly tangled in her toils ; Fancy ! whose magic forms so gay The fair Deceiver's self deceive- How sweet is Love's first gentle sway! Ne'er would that heart he bids to grieve, From Sorrow's soft enchantments stray ! Ne'er! till the God, exulting in his art, Relentless frowns, and wings th' envenomed dart! 217 Carolina i\'airne^ Baroness Nairne. THE LAND O THE LEAL, I'm wearin' awa, John ! Like snaw-wreaths in thaw, John! I'm wearin' awa' To the land o' the leal! There 's nae sorrow there, John! There 's neither cauld nor care, John! The day is aye fair In the land o' the leal! Our bonnie bairn *s there, John! She was baith gude and fair, Jojin! And, oh ! we grudg'd her sair To the land o' the leal! But sorrow's sel' wears past, John! And joy 's a-comin' fast, John! The joy that 's aye to last In the land o' the leal! Sae dear that joy was bought, John! Sae free the battle fought, John! That sinfu' Man e'er brought To the land o' the leal. Oh! dry your glist'ning e'e, John! My saul langs to be free, John I And Angels beckon me To the land of the leal ! 218 Carolina Nairne^ Baroness Nairne. Oh! baud ye leal and true, John! Your day, it 's wearin' thro', John ! And I'll welcome you To the land o' the leal ! Now, fare ye weel ! my ain John! This warld's cares are vain, John! We'll meet, and we'll be fain. In the land o' the leal I CALLER HEREIN'/ Wha'll buy my caller herrin' ? They're bonnie fish and halesame farin' I Wha'll buy my caller herrin', New drawn frae the Forth ? When ye were sleepin' on your pillows, Dream'd ye aught o' our puir fellows, Darkling as they fac'd the billows, A' to fill the woven willows ? Buy my caller herrin', New drawn frae the Forth! Wha'll buy my caller herrin' ? They're no brought here without brave daring Buy my caller herrin', Hauled thro' wind and rain ! Wha'll buy my caller herrin' ? &c. 219 Carolina Nairne, Baroness Nairne. Wha'll buy my caller herrin' ? Oh ! ye may ca them vulgar farin' ! Wives and mithers maist despairing, Ca' them lives o' men ! Wha'll buy my caller herrin' ? &c. When the creel o' herrin' passes, Ladies, clad in silks and laces, Gather in their braw pelisses, Cast their heads, and screw their faces. Wha'll buy my caller herrin ? &c. Caller herrin 's no got lightly! Ye can trip the spring fu' tightlie, Spite o' tauntin', flauntin', flingin', Gow has set you a' a-singing * Wha'll buy my caller herrin' ? ' &c. Neebour Wives ! now tent my tellin' ! When the bonny fish ye're sellin', At ae word be, in ye're deal in' ! Truth will stand, when a' thing 's failin' ! Wha'll buy my caller herrin' ? &c. 220 Carolina Nairne, Baroness Nairne. THE LAIRD O' COCKPEN. The Laird o' Cockpen, he 's proud an' he 's great! His mind is ta'en up wi' things o' the State! He wanted a Wife, his braw house to keep; But favour, wi' wooin', was fashions to seek. Down by the dyke-side, a Lady did dwell, At his table head, he thought she'd look well McClish 's ae daughter o' Claverse-ha' Lee, A penniless Lass, wi' a lang pedigree. His wig was weel pouther'd, and as gude as new; His waistcoat was white ; his coat, it was blue : He put on a ring, a sword, and cock'd hat; And wha could refuse the Laird, wi' a' that? He took the grey mare, and rade cannily. An' rapp'd at the yett o' Claverse-ha' Lee. 'Gae tell Mistress Jean to come speedily ben, She's wanted to speak to the Laird o' Cockpen.' 221 Carolina Nairne, Baroness Nairne. Mistress Jean was makin' the elder-flower wine. * An' what brings the Laird at sic a like time ? ' She put aff her apron, and on her silk gown, Her mutch wi' red ribbons ; and gaed awa' down. An* when she cam' ben, he bowed fu' low; An' what was his errand, he soon let her know. Amazed was the Laird, when the Lady said, * Na ! And wi' a laigh curtsie she turned awa'. Dumfounder'd he was, nae sigh did he gie, He mounted his mare — he rade cannily; And aften he thought, as he gaed thro' the Glen, ' She 's daft to refuse the Laird o* Cockpen ! ' [And now that the Laird his exit has made, Mistress Jean, she reflected on what she had said. * Oh ! for ane I'll get better ; its waur I'll get ten ! I was daft to refuse the Laird o' Cockpen ! ' Next time that the Laird and the Lady were seen. They were gaun arm-in-arm to the Kirk on the Green; Now she sits in the Ha', like a weel-tappit hen ; But, as yet, there 's nae chickens appear'd at Cockpen.] 322 CHARLES LAMB. Charles Lamb. THE OLD FAMILIAR FACES. Where are they gone, the old famihar faces? I had a Mother ; but she died, and left me ! Died prematurely, in a day of horrors ! All, all, are gone, the old familiar faces ! I have had Playmates, I have had Companions, In my days of childhood ! in my joyful school-days ! All, all, are gone, the old familiar faces! I have been laughing, I have been carousing, Drinking late, sitting late, with my bosom Cronies! All, all, are gone, the old familiar faces ! I loved a Love once, fairest among women ! Closed are her doors on me ! I must not see her ! All, all, are gone, the old familiar faces! I have a Friend, a kinder friend has no man! Like an ingrate, I left my Friend abruptly ! Left him, to muse on the old familiar faces ! Ghost-like, I paced round the haunts of my childhood, Earth seemed a desert I was bound to traverse, Seeking to find the old familiar faces. Friend of my bosom ! thou more than a brother ! Why wert not thou born in my father's dwelling? So might we talk of the old familiar faces. For some, they have died ; and some, they have left me ! And some are taken from me! All are departed! All, all, are gone, the old familiar faces! January, 1798. 323 William Roscoe, THE BUTTERFLY'S BALL AND THE GRASSHOPPER'S FEAST. 'Come, take up your hats; and away let us haste To the Butterfly's Ball and the Grasshopper's Feast ! The trumpeter, Gadfly, has summoned the crew ; And the Revels are now only waiting for you!' So said little Robert ; and, pacing along, His merry companions came forth in a throng: And, on the smooth grass, by the side of a wood, Beneath an old oak that for ages had stood, Saw the Children of Earth and the Tenants of Air, For an evening's amusement together repair. And there came the Beetle so blind and so black, Who carried the Emmet, his friend, on his back ; And there was the Gnat, and the Dragon Fly too, With all their relations, green, orange, and blue ; And there came the Moth, with his plumage of down. And the Hornet in jacket of yellow and brown, Who with him the Wasp, his companion, did bring ; But they promised, that evening, to lay by their sting ! And the sly little Dormouse crept out of his hole, And brought to the Feast his blind brother, the Mole ; 224 IVilliam Roscoe. And the Snail, with his horns peeping out of his shell, Came from a great distance — the length of an ell ! A Mushroom their table, and on it was laid A Water-dock Leaf, which a table-cloth made. The viands were various, to each of their taste ; And the Bee brought her honey to crown the repast. Then, close on his haunches, so solemn and wise, The Frog from a corner looked up to the skies ; And the Squirrel, well pleased such diversions to see, Mounted high over head, and looked down from a tree. Then, out came the Spider, with finger so fine, To show his dexterity on the tight line. From one branch to another his cobwebs he slung, Then quick as an arrow he darted along; But just in the middle, O, shocking to tell ! From his rope, in an instant, poor Harlequin fell ! Yet he touched not the ground ; but, with talons outspread, Hung suspended in air at the end of a thread. Then, the Grasshopper came with a jerk and a spring, Very long was his leg, though but short was his wing ; He took but three leaps, and was soon out of sight ; Then chirped his own praises all the rest of the night. With step so majestic, the Snail did advance, And promised the gazers a Minuet to dance ; But they all laughed so loud, that he pulled in his head, And went in his own little chamber to bed. Then, as evening gave way to the shadows of night. Their Watchman, the Glowworm, came out with a light. ' Then home let us hasten, while yet we can see ! For no Watchman is waiting for you and for me.' So said little Robert ; and, pacing along, His merry companions returned in a throng. BRIT. ANTH. X. 225 Professor IVilliam Smyth. A Soldier am I, the world over I range ; And would not my lot with a Monarch exchange ! How welcome a Soldier, wherever he roves, Attended, like Venus, by Mars and the Loves ! How dull is the Ball, how cheerless the Fair ! What s a feast, or a frolic ? if we are not there ! Kind, hearty, and gallant, and joyous, we come ; And the World looks alive at the sound of the Drum ! ' The Soldiers are coming ! ' the villagers cry ; All trades are suspended to see us pass by. Quick flies the glad sound to the Maiden upstairs; In a moment dismissed are her broom and her cares ! Outstretched is her neck till the Soldiers she sees. From her cap the red ribbon plays light in the breeze ; But lighter her heart plays, as nearer we come ; And redder her cheek at the sound of the Drum! The Veteran, half dozing, awakes at the news. Hobbles out, and our column with triumph reviews : Near his knee, his young grandson, with ecstasy, hears Of Majors, and Generals, and fierce Brigadiers ; Of the marches he took, and the hardships he knew ; Of the battles he fought, and the foes that he slew: To his heart spirits new, in wild revelry come, And make one rally more at the sound of the Drum ! 226 Professor IVilliam Smyth. Who loves not the Soldier ? the generous, the brave, The heart that can feel, and the arm that can save! In peace, the gay friend, with manners that charm, The thought ever liberal, the soul ever warm ! In his mind, nothing selfish or pitiful known ; Tis a Temple, which Honour can enter alone! No titles I boast ; yet, wherever I come, I can always feel proud at the sound of the Drum ! Laura ! thy sighs must now no more My faltering step detain I Nor dare I hang thy sorrows o'er; Nor clasp thee thus, in vain ! Yet, while thy bosom heaves that sigh. While tears thy cheek bedew, Ah I think, (though doomed from thee to fly) My heart speaks no Adieu ! Thee would I bid to check those sighs. If thine were heard alone ! Thee would I bid to dry those eyes; But tears are in my own ! One last, long, kiss; and then we part! Another, and Adieu! I cannot aid thy breaking heart; For mine is breaking too ! «a 227 Professor William Smyth. The Bard, whom the charms of Maria inspire, Who steals from his subject applause for his lyre, May tenderly sigh, when some summers are o'er, And he finds, as he thinks, that her charms are no more : The beauties he praised, he no longer may see ; But Maria shall still be Maria to me! Her cheek, the warm rose may no longer display ; But can Time, with the rose, steal the dimple away? Her eyes, with a lustre less brilliant may beam ; But there shall affection more tenderly gleam ! And softer, and dearer, their promise shall be, That Maria shall still be Maria to me ! The first in the dance, she no longer may shine; And the joys of the dance shall then cease to be mine ! The crowd she no longer with rapture may fire ; And I, from the crowd can contented retire! Fast, fast, may the leaves drop from Pleasure's gay tree ; But Maria shall still be Maria to me I The bank by the streamlet may moulder away ; The rock stands uninjured, and knows no decay ! Time, her form may despoil ; but must leave me behind Her mamiers ! her virtues I her heart ! and her mind ! Roll on then, ye summers ! No change shall I see ; But Maria shall still be Maria to me I 228 Anne Grant, of Laggan. On THE MARQUIS OF HUNTLETS DEPARTURE FOR THE CONTINENT WITH HIS ReGIMENT, IN 1799. O, WHERE, tell me where, is your Highland Laddie gone? O, where, tell me where, is your Highland Laddie gone? He 's gone, with streaming banners, where noble deeds are done; And my sad heart will tremble, till he comes safely home ! O, where, tell me where, did your Highland Laddie stay ? O, where, tell me where, did your Highland Laddie stay? He dwelt beneath the holly trees, beside the rapid Spey ; And many a blessing followed him, the day he went away ! O, what, tell me what, does your Highland Laddie wear? O, what, tell me what, does your Highland Laddie wear? A bonnet, with a lofty plume ! the gallant badge of War j And a plaid across the manly breast that yet shall wear a Star I Suppose, ah ! suppose that some cruel, cruel, wound Should pierce your Highland Laddie; and all your hopes confound! The Pipe would play a cheering March ! the banners round him fly ! The spirit of a Highland Chief would lighten in his eye ! The Pipe would play a cheering March I the banners round him fly ! And for his King and country dear, with pleasure he would die ! But I will hope to see him yet in Scotland's bonny bounds f But I will hope to see him yet in Scotland's bonny bounds / His native Land of Liberty shall nurse his glorious wounds / While, wide through all our Highland hills his warlike name resounds ! 229 Indrew Cherry. THE BAY OF BISCAY, O! Loud roared the dreadful thunder, The rain a deluge showers, The clouds were rent asunder By lightning's vivid powers, The night both drear and dark, Our poor deluded bark Till next day there she lay In the Bay of Biscay, O ! Now dashed upon the billow, Our opening timbers creak, Each fears a wat'ry pillow, None stop the dreadful leak ! To cling to slipp'ry shrouds, Each breathless seaman crowds. As she lay till the day In the Bay of Biscay, O ! 230 Andrew Cherry. At length, the wished-for morrow Broke through the hazy sky, Absorbed In silent sorrow, Each heaved the bitter sigh ; The dismal wreck to view, Struck horror to the crew. As she lay, on that day, In the Bay of Biscay, O ! Her yielding timbers sever, Her pitchy seams are rent, When Heaven, all-bounteous ever, Its boundless mercy sent. A Sail in sight appears; We hail her with three cheers! Now we sail, with the gale. From the Bay of Biscay, O! 331 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. THE RAVEN. Under the arms of a goodly oak tree, There was of Swine a large company. They were making a rude repast, Grunting as they crunched the mast : Then, they trotted away, for the wind blew high ; One acorn they left, ne more mote you spy. Next, came a Raven, who liked not such folly : He belonged, I believe, to the Witch Melancholy. Blacker was he than blackest jet, Flew low in the rain, his feathers were wet. He picked up the acorn, and buried it strait By the side of a river both deep and great Where then did the Raven go? He went high and low! O'er hill, o'er dale, did the black Raven go! Many Autumns, many Springs, Travelled he with wand'ring wings; Many Summers, many Winters — I can't tell half his adventures ! At length he returned, and with him a She, And the acorn was grown [to] a tall oak tree. 232 SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE. Samuel Taylor Coleridge. They built them a nest in the topmost bough; And young ones they had, and were jolly enow. But, soon, came a Woodman, in leathern guise ; His brow, like a pent-house, hung over his eyes. He'd an axe in his hand, not a word he spoke ; But with many a ' Hem ! ' and a sturdy stroke. At last, he brought down the poor Raven's own oak. His young ones were killed, for they could not depart ; And his wife, she did die of a broken heart. The branches from off it the Woodman did sever ; And they floated it down on the course of the river. They sawed it to planks, and its rind they did strip ; And, with this tree and others, they built up a ship. The ship, it was launched : but, in sight of the land, A tempest arose which no ship could withstand. It bulged on a rock, and the waves rushed in fast ; The old Raven flew round and round, and cawed to the blast. He heard the sea-shriek of their perishing souls. They be sunk ! O'er the topmast the mad water rolls ! The Raven was glad that such fate they did meet : [And Death riding home on a cloud, he did meet; And he thanked him again and again for this treat!] They had taken his all ; and Revenge was sweet ! 233 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. SONNET, ON RECEIVING A LETTER INFORMING ME OF THE BIRTH OF A SON. When they did greet me ' Father,' sudden awe Weighed down my spirit. I retired, and knelt, Seeking the Throne of Grace ; but inly felt No heavenly visitation upwards draw My feeble mind, nor cheering ray impart. Ah me! before the Eternal Sire I brought Th' unquiet silence of confused thought And shapeless feelings ! My o'erwhelmed heart Trembled ; and vacant tears streamed down my face. * And now, once more, O, Lord ! to thee I bend, Lover of souls ! and groan for future grace ! That, ere my babe youth's perilous maze have trod, The overshadowing SPIRIT may descend, And he be born again, a Child of GOD!' LOVE. All thoughts, all passions, all delights. Whatever stirs this mortal frame, All are but Ministers of Love ; And feed his sacred flame. 234 Sarmtel Taylor Coleridge. Oft, in my waking dreams, do I Live o'er again that happy hour, When, midway on the mount, I lay Beside the ruined Tower. The moonshine, stealing o'er the scene, Had blended with the lights of eve ; And she was there, my hope, my joy, My own dear Genevieve! She leaned against the armed man, The statue of the armed Knight; She stood and listened to my harp, Amid the ling'ring light. Few sorrows hath she of her own, My hope, my joy, my Genevieve! She loves me best, whene'er I sing The Songs that make her grieve. I played a soft and doleful Air, I sang an old and moving Story, An old rude Song that fitted well The ruin wild and hoary. She listened with a flitting blush. With downcast eyes, and modest grace; For well she kn^w, I could not choose But gaze upon her face. Samuel Taylor Coleridge. I told her of the Knight that wore Upon his shield a burning brand ; And that, for ten long years, he wooed The Lady of tJie land. I told her, how he pined : and, ah ! The low, the deep, the pleading, tone With which I sang another's love, Interpreted my own. She listened with a flitting blush. With downcast eyes, and modest grace ; And she forgave me, that I gazed Too fondly on her face. But when I told the cruel scorn Which crazed this bold and lovely Knight, And that he crossed the mountain woods, Nor rested day nor night ; That, sometimes from, the savage den, And sometimes from the darksome shade, And sometimes starting up at once In green and sunny glade. There came, and looked him. in the face, An Angel beautiful and bright ; And that he knew, it was a Fiend, This miserable Knight I 236 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. And that, unknowing what he did. He leapt amid a murderous band ; And saved from outrage worse than death The Lady of the land; And how She wept, and clasped his knees ^ And how She tended him, in vain; And ever strove to expiate The scorn that crazed his brain; And that She nursed him in a cave; And how his madness went away. When on the yellow forest leaves A dying man he lay ; His dying words — But, when I reached That tenderest strain of all the Ditty, My falt'ring voice and pausing harp Disturbed her soul with pity. All impulses of soul and sense Had thrilled my guileless Genevieve, The music, and the doleful Tale, The rich and balmy eve, And hopes, and fears that kindle hope, An undistinguishable throng; And gentle wishes long subdued, Subdued and cherished long; 237 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. She wept with pity and delight, She blushed with love and maiden shame ; And, like the murmur of a dream, I heard her breathe my name. Her bosom heaved, she stepped aside. As conscious of my look she stepped ; Then, suddenly, with timorous eye, She fled to me, and wept. She half inclosed me with her arms. She pressed me with a meek embrace ; And, bending back her head, looked up And gazed upon my face. *Twas partly love, and partly fear; And partly 'twas a bashful art. That I might rather feel, than see, The swelling of her heart I calmed her fears; and she was calm, And told her love with virgin pride ; And so I wan my Genevieve, My bright and beauteous Bride ! 238 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. WATER BALLAD, 'Come hither, gently rowing! Come, bear me quickly o'er This stream so brightly flowing, To yonder woodland shore! But vain were my endeavour To pay thee, courteous guide I Row on ! row on ! For ever I'd have thee by my side! ' Good boatman, prithee, haste thee I I seek my father-land ! ' ' Say, when I there have placed thee, Dare I demand thy hand?' * A maiden's head can never So hard a point decide ! Row on ! row on ! For ever I'd have thee by my side ! ' The happy bridal over. The wanderer ceased to roam ; For, seated by her Lover, The boat became her home : And still they sang together, As steering o'er the tide, * Row on, through wind and weather, For ever by my side!' 239 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. THE ROSE. As late each flower that sweetest blows I plucked, the garden's pride, Within the petals of a Rose, A sleeping Love I 'spied. Around his brows, a beamy wreath Of many a lucent hue ; All purple glowed his cheek beneath, Inebriate with dew. I softly seized th' unguarded Power, Nor scared his balmy rest ; And placed him, caged within the flower. On spotless Sara's breast. But when, unweeting of the guile, Awoke the pris'ner sweet. He struggled to escape a while, And stamped his faery feet. Ah ! soon the soul-entrancing sight Subdued th' impatient Boy ! He gazed! He thrilled with deep delight Then clapped his wings for joy ! And, * O,' he cried, ' of magic kind What charms this Throne endear! Some other Love let Venus find! I'll fix my empire here!' 240 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. THE AJSrCIENT MARINER. A PoET^s Reverie. This Poem first appeared in Lyrical Ballads, Bristol, 1798, under the title of The Rime of the Ancyent Marinere. The present is the greatly revised text in the first volume of Lyrical Ballads, 2nd Ed., London, 1800. In 1 81 7, in his Sibylline Leaves, the Poet, besides further revisions, added a side- column of explanatory prose; which afterthought is palpably a mistake, for beautiful Verse in literary English explains itself. ARGUMENT. How a ship., having first sailed to the Equator, was driven by storms to the cold country towards the South Pole ; how the Ancient Mariner, cruelly and in con- tempt of the laws of hospitality, killed a sea-bird; and how he was followed by many and strange judge- ments ; and in what manner he came back to his own country. . I. It is an Ancient Mariner, And he stoppeth one of three. ' By thy long grey beard, and thy glittering eye. Now, wherefore stoppest me ? BRIT. ANTH. X. R ^41 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. * The Bridegroom's doors are opened wide, And I am next of kin ; The guests are met, the feast is set — Mayst hear the merry din ! ' But still he holds the Wedding Guest; ' There was a Ship,' quoth he. * Nay ! if thou 'st got a laughsome tale, Mariner ! come with me ! ' He holds him with his skinny hand, Quoth he, ' There was a Ship.' * Now, get thee hence, thou grey-beard loon ! Or my staff shall make thee skip!' He holds him with his glittering eye: The Wedding Guest stood still, And listens like a three-years' child ; The Mariner hath his will. The Wedding Guest sat on a stone, He cannot choose but hear! And thus spake on that ancient man, The bright-eyed Mariner. 'The Ship was cheered, the Harbour cleared, Merrily did we drop Below the Kirk, below the Hill, Below the Lighthouse top. 242 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. * The sun came up upon the left, Out of the sea came he ; And he shone bright, and on the right Went down into the sea. * Higher and higher every day. Till over the mast at noon' — The Wedding Guest here beat his breast, For he heard the loud bassoon. The Bride hath paced into the Hall, Red as a rose is she ; Nodding their heads, before her goes The merry Minstrelsy. The Wedding Guest, he beat his breast; Yet he cannot choose but hear! And thus spake on that ancient man, The bright-eyed Mariner. * But now the north wind came more fierce, There came a tempest strong; And southward still, for days and weeks. Like chaff we drove along! ' And now there came both mist and snow, And it grew wondrous cold ; And ice, mast-high, came floating by. As green as emerald. R 2 243 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. 'And, through the drifts, the snowy cHfts Did send a dismal sheen ; Nor shapes of men, nor beasts, we ken— The ice was all between. * The ice was here, the ice was there, The ice was all around : It cracked and growled, and roared and howled, A wild and ceaseless sound. ' At length, did cross an Albatross, Thorough the fog it came : As if it had been a Christian soul, We hailed it, in GOD's name! ' The Mariners gave it biscuit-worms. And round and round it flew : The ice did split with a thunder-fit, The helmsman steered us through. ' And a good south wind sprang up behind ; The Albatross did follow. And, every day, for food or play. Came to the Mariner's holloa. ' In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud, It perched for Vespers nine ; Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke white, Glimmered the white moonshine.' 244 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. 'GOD save thee, Ancient Mariner! From the fiends that plague thee thus ! Why look'st thou so ? ' ' With my cross-bow, I shot the Albatross! II. ' The sun now rose upon the right, Out of the sea came he, Still hid in mist; and on the left, Went down into the sea. * And the good south wind still blew behind ; But no sweet bird did follow, Nor any day, for food or play, Came to the Mariner's holloa. 'And I had done a hellish thing, And it would work them woe : For all averred, " I had killed the bird That made the breeze to blow." •Nor dim, nor red like an Angel's head. The glorious sun uprist : Then all averred, " I had killed the bird That brought the fog and mist. Twas right," said they, "such birds to slay, That bring the fog and mist." 245 Saimiel Taylor Coleridge. ' The breezes blew, the white foam flew, The furrow followed free : We were the first that ever burst Into that silent sea. ' Down dropped the breeze, the sails dropped down, 'Twas sad as sad could be ; And we did speak, only to break The silence of the sea. 'All in a hot and copper sky, The bloody sun, at noon. Right up above the mast did stand. No bigger than the moon. * Day after day, day after day. We stuck ; nor breath, nor motion ! As idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean. ' Water, water, everywhere ; And all the boards did shrink! Water, water, everywhere ; Nor any drop to drink! ' The very deeps did rot ! O, Christ ! That ever this should be ! Yea! slimy things did crawl with legs Upon the slimy sea. 246 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. * About, about, in reel and rout, The death-fires danced at nio^ht. The water, like a Witch's oils. Burnt green, and blue, and white. 'And some, in dreams, assured were. Of the Spirit that plagued us so : Nine fathoms deep he had followed us From the Land of Mist and Snow. 'And every tongue, through utter drouth, Was withered at the root: We could not speak, no more than if We had been choked with soot! ' Ah ! well-a-day ! what evil looks Had I from old and young! Instead of the cross, the Albatross About my neck was hung. III. ' So passed a weary time : each throat Was parched, and glazed each eye. When, looking westward, I beheld A something in the sky. 'At first, it seemed a little speck, And then it seemed a mist ; It moved and moved, and took, at last, A certain shape, I wistl 247 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. * A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist ! And still it neared and neared ; And, as if it dodged a Water Sprite, It plunged, and tacked, and veered. 'With throat unslacked, with black lips baked, We could nor laugh, nor wail ; Through utter drouth, all dumb we stood, Till I bit my arm, and sucked the blood. And cried, "A Sail! a Sail!" 'With throat unslacked, with black lips baked, Agape, they heard me call ; Gramercy ! they for joy did grin ; And, all at once, their breath drew in, As they were drinking all. * " See ! See ! " I cried, " she tacks no more ! Hither, to work us weal, Without a breeze, without a tide, She steadies with upright keel!" * The western wave was all aflame, The day was wellnigh done, Almost upon the western wave Rested the broad bright sun, When that strange shape drove suddenly Betwixt us and the sun: 248 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. ' And, strait, the sun was flecked with bars (Heaven's Mother send us grace!), As if, through a dungeon grate, he peered With broad and burning face. **'Alas!" thought I, and my heart beat loud, "How fast she nears and nears! Are those her sails, that glance in the sun Like restless gossamers? ' " Are those her ribs, through which the sun Did peer as through a grate ? Are those two all, all her crew. That Woman, and her Mate?'* 'His bones were black, with many a crack, All black and bare, I ween! Jet-black and bare; save where, with rust Of mouldy damps and charnel crust, They were patched with purple and green. 'Her lips were red, her looks were free, Her locks were yellow as gold. Her skin was as white as leprosy; And She was far liker Death than He! Her flesh made the still air cold! 'The naked hulk alongside came, And the twain were playing dice. "The game is done! I've won! I've won!" Quoth She, and whistled thrice. 249 Samuel Tavlor Coleridge. ' A gust of wind sterte up behind, And whistled through his bones ; [mouth, Through the holes of his eyes, and the hole of his Half-whistles and half-groans. * With never a whisper in the sea, Off darts the Spectre Ship ! While clombe above the eastern bar The horned moon, with one bright star Almost between the tips. 'One after one, by the horned moon (Listen, O, stranger, to me !), Each turned his face, with a ghastly pang, And cursed me with his ee! ' Four times fifty living men, With never a sigh or groan, With heavy thump, a lifeless lump, They dropped down one by one. ' Their souls did from their bodies fly, They fled to bliss or woe ; And every soul, it passed me by Like the whiz of my cross-bow ! * IV. ' I fear thee, Ancient Mariner ! I fear thy skinny hand ; And thou art long and lank and brown As is the ribbed sea sand ! 250 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. ' I fear thee, and thy glittering eye, And thy skinny hand so brown' — ' Fear not ! fear not, thou Wedding Guest ! This body dropped not down! * Alone, alone, all all alone. Alone on the wide wide sea ! And Christ would take no pity on My soul in agony! * The many men so beautiful, And they all dead did lie ! And a million million slimy things Lived on — and so did I ! * I looked upon the rotting sea, And drew my eyes away; I looked upon the ghastly deck, And there the dead men lay. : *I looked to Heaven, and tried to pray; But, or ever a prayer had gusht, A wicked whisper came, and made My heart as dry as dust *I closed my lids, and kept them close Till the balls like pulses beat; For the sky and the sea, and the sea and the sky, Lay like a load on my weary eye; And the dead were at my feet. 251 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. * The cold sweat melted from their limbs ; Nor rot, nor reek did they ! The look with which they looked on me, Had never passed away! 'An orphan's curse wK)iild drag to Hell A spirit from on high ; But, O, more horrible than that Is the curse in a dead man's eye ! Seven days, seven nights, I saw that curse ; And yet I could not die ! 'The moving moon went up the sky, And nowhere did abide ; Softly she was going up, And a star or two beside. 'Her beams bemocked the sultry Main, Like April hoar-frost spread; But where the Ship's huge shadow lay, The charmed water burnt alway A still and awful red. ' Beyond the shadow of the Ship, I watched the water-snakes ; They moved in tracks of shining white, And when they reared, the elfish light Fell off in hqary flakes. 252 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. ' Within the shadow of the Ship, I watched their rich attire ; Blue, glossy green, and velvet black, They coiled and swam ; and every track Was a flash of golden fire. * O, happy living things ! no tongue Their beauty might declare! A spring of love gushed from my heart; And I blessed them unaware! Sure, my kind Saint took pity on me; And I blessed them unaware ! *The selfsame moment I could pray; And from my neck so free The Albatross fell off, and sank Like lead into the sea. V. *0, sleep! it is a gentle thing, Beloved from pole to pole! To Mary, Queen! the praise be given! She sent the gentle sleep from Heaven, That slid into my soul. •The silly buckets on the deck, That had so long remained, I dreamt that they were filled with dew; And when I woke, it rained. 253 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. ' My lips were wet, my throat was cold, My garments all were dank ; Sure, I had drunken in my dreams, And still my body drank ! * I moved, and could not feel my limbs ; I was so light, almost I thought that I had died in sleep, And was a blessed ghost! 'And soon I heard a roaring wind. It did not come anear; But, with its sound, it shook the sails That were so thin and sere. 'The upper air burst into life, And a hundred fire-flags sheen, To and fro they hurried about: And to and fro, and in and out, The wan stars danced between. 'And the coming wind did roar more loud, And the sails did sigh like sedge; And the rain poured down from one black cloud The moon was at its edge. 'The thick black cloud was cleft, and still The moon was at its side : Like waters shot from some high crag. The lightning fell, with never a jag, A river steep and wide. 254 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. ' The loud wind never reached the Ship ; Yet now the Ship moved on ! Beneath the Hghtning and the moon, The dead men gave a groan. ' They groaned, they stirred, they all uprose, Nor spake, nor moved their eyes. It had been strange, even in a dream, To have seen those dead men rise! * The helmsman steered, the Ship moved on ; Yet never a breeze up-blew ! The Mariners all 'gan work the ropes. Where they were wont to do ! They raised their limbs like lifeless tools, We were a ghastly crew ! * The body of my brother's son Stood by me, knee to knee : The body and I pulled at one rope; But he said nought to me ! ' ' I fear thee. Ancient Mariner ! * ' Be calm, thou Wedding Guest ! 'Twas not those souls, that fled in pain, Which to their corses came again; But a troop of Spirits blest! 255 Saimiel Taylor Coleridge, * For, when it dawned, they dropped their arms, And clustered round the mast : Sweet sounds rose slowly through their mouths, And from their bodies passed. 'Around, around, flew each sweet sound, Then darted to the sun ; Slowly the sounds came back again, Now mixed, now one by one. 'Sometimes, a-dropping from the sky, I heard the skylark sing! Sometimes, all the little birds that are. How they seemed to fill the sea and air With their sweet jargoning! 'And now, 'twas like all instruments! Now, like a lonely flute ! And now, it is an Angel's song, That makes the heavens be mute! * It ceased : yet still the sails made on ! A pleasant noise till noon, A noise like of a hidden brook. In the leafy month of June, That to the sleeping woods, all night, Singeth a quiet lune. 256 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. ' Till noon, we silently sailed on ; Yet never a breeze did breathe ! Slowly and smoothly went the Ship, Moved onward from beneath. ' Under the keel, nine fathoms deep, From the Land of Mist and Snow, The Spirit slid : and it was he That made the Ship to go. The sails, at noon, left off their tune; And the Ship stood still also. * The sun right up above the mast Had fixed her to the ocean; But, in a minute, she gan stir With a short uneasy motion, Backwards and forwards half her length With a short uneasy motion. 'Then, like a pawing horse let go, She made a sudden bound! It flung the blood into my head; And I fell into a swound. 'How long in that same fit I lay, I have not to declare ; But, ere my living life returned, I heard, and in my soul discerned. Two Voices in the air. BRIT. ANTH. X. S ^57 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. ' Is it he ? quoth one, Is this the man By Him zuho died on cross ! With his ci'uel blow, he laid full low The harmless Albatross I * The Spirit, who ^bideth by himself In the Land of Mist and Snow, He loved the bird, that loved the man Who shot him with his bow. ' The other was a softer voice, As soft as honey-dew ; Quoth he, The man hath penance done; And penance m^re will do I VI, First Voice. ' But tell m,e, tell me I speak again. Thy soft response renewing. What makes that Ship drive on so fast \ What is the ocean doing? Second Voice. ' Still as a slave before his Lord, The ocean hath no blast! His great b7'ight eye most silently Up to the moon is cast, 258 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. ' If he may know which way to go ! For she guides him smooth, or grim. See, brother / see, how graciously She looketh down on him. First Voice. ' But why drives on that Ship so fast, Without or wave, or wind? Second Voice. * The air is cut away before, And closes from behind. * Fly, brother! fly more high! 7nore high! Or we shall be belated ; For slow and slow that Ship will go. When the Mariner s trance is abated. ' I woke, and we were sailing on As in a gentle weather. 'Twas night, calm night, the moon was high The dead men stood together. 'All stood together on the deck, For a charnel-dungeon fitter! All fixed on me their stony eyes, That in the moon did glitter. s 2 259 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. ' The pang, the curse, with which they died, Had never passed away ! I could not draw my eyes from theirs ; Nor turn them up to pray ! * And now this spell was snapt ! Once more I viewed the ocean green ; And looked far forth, yet little saw Of what had else been seen. ' Like one that, on a lonesome road, Doth walk in fear and dread; And, having once turned round, walks on, And turns no more his head : Because he knows a frightful fiend Doth close behind him tread, * But soon there breathed a wind on me, Nor sound nor motion made ; Its path was not upon the sea In ripple or in shade, *It raised my hair, it fanned my cheek, Like a meadow-gale of Spring; It mingled strangely with my fears, Yet it felt like a welcoming. 'Swiftly, swiftly, flew the Ship; Yet she sailed softly too ! Sweetly, sweetly, blew the breeze ; On me alone it blew! 260 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. ' " O, dream of joy ! Is this indeed The Lighthouse top I see ? Is this the Hill? Is this the Kirk? Is this mine own countree ? " *We drifted o'er the Harbour bar; And I, with sobs, did pray, " O, let me be awake, my GOD ! Or let me sleep alway ! " * The Harbour Bay was clear as glass, So smoothly it was strewn; And on the Bay the moonlight lay, And the shadow of the moon. 'The rock shone bright, the Kirk no less, That stands above the rock; The moonlight steeped in silentness The steady weathercock. 'And the Bay was white with silent light. Till, rising from the same. Full many shapes, that shadows were. In crimson colours came. 'A little distance from the prow, Those crimson shadows were: I turned my eyes upon the deck, O, Christ! what saw I there? 261 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. * Each corse lay flat, lifeless and flat ; And, by the holy rood! A man all light, a Seraph-man, On every corse there stood. 'This Seraph band, each waved his hand! It was a heavenly sight! They stood as signals to the land, Each one a lovely light. ' This Seraph band, each waved his hand I No voice did they impart! No voice ; but, O, the silence sank Like music on my heart ! ' But soon I heard the dash of oars ; I heard the Pilot's cheer : My head was turned, perforce, away ; And I saw a boat appear. *The Pilot and the Pilot's boy, I heard them coming fast. Dear Lord in Heaven ! it was a joy The dead men could not blast ! *I saw a third, I heard his voice, It was the Hermit good! He singeth loud his godly hymns, That he makes in the wood. " He'll shrieve my soul ! He'll wash away The Albatross's blood!" 262 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. VII. ' The Hermit good lives in that wood Which slopes down to the sea; How loudly his sweet voice he rears! He loves to talk with Mariners, That come from a far countree. ' He kneels at morn, and noon, and eve ; He hath a cushion plump. It is the moss, that wholly hides The rotted old oak stump. ' The skiff-boat neared. I heard them talk, " Why, this is strange, I trow ! Where are those lights so many and fair, That signal made but now ? " •"Strange, by my faith!" the Hermit said, "And they answered not our cheer! The planks look warped; and see those sails, How thin they are and sere! I never saw aught like to them; Unless, perchance, it were ' " The skeletons of leaves that lag My forest brook along; When the ivy-tod is heavy with snow, And the owlet whoops to the wolf below, That eats the she-wolfs young." 263 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. '"Dear Lord! it has a fiendish look!" The Pilot made reply, •' I am afeard ! " " Push on ! push on ! " . Said the Hermit cheerily. ' The boat came closer to the Ship ; But I nor spake, nor stirred. The boat came close beneath the Ship; And, strait, a sound was heard! ' Under the water it rumbled on. Still louder and more dread ; It reached the Ship, it split the Bay ; The Ship went down like lead. ' Stunned by that loud and dreadful sound, Which sky and ocean smote, Like one that hath been seven days drowned. My body lay afloat; But, swift as dreams, myself I found Within the Pilot's boat. * Upon the whirl, where sank the Ship, The boat span round and round; And all was still, save that the Hill Was telling of the sound. * I moved my lips. The Pilot shrieked ; And fell down in a fit. The holy Hermit raised his eyes, And prayed where he did sit. 264 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. ' I took the oars. The Pilot's boy (Who now doth crazy go) Laughed loud and long, and all the while His eyes went to and fro. "Ha! Ha!" quoth he, "full plain I see The devil knows how to row!" * And now, all in mine own countree, I stood on the firm land. The Hermit stepped forth from the boat, And scarcely he could stand. ' " O, shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man ! " The Hermit crossed his brow. " Say quick ! " quoth he, " I bid thee say. What manner man art thou ? " * Forthwith, this frame of mind was wrenched With a woeful agony, Which forced me to begin my tale; And then it left me free. 'Since then, at an uncertain hour, That agony returns; And till my ghastly tale is told, This heart within me burns! 265 Samuel Taylor Coleridge, ' I pass, like night, from land to land ; I have strange power of speech ! The moment that his face I see, I know the man that must hear me! To him my tale I teach. * What loud uproar bursts from that door ! The Wedding Guests are there ; But in the garden bower the Bride And Bridesmaids singing are! And, hark ! the little Vesper bell, Which biddeth me to prayer! *0, Wedding Guest! this soul hath been Alone on a wide wide sea ! So lonely 'twas, that GOD himself Scarce seemed there to be! * O, sweeter than the Marriage Feast ! 'Tis sweeter far to me, To walk together to the Kirk, With a goodly company. 'To walk together to the Kirk, And all together pray; While each to his Great Father bends, Old Men, and Babes, and loving Friends, And Youths, and Maidens gay. 266 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. ' Farewell ! Farewell ! but this I tell To thee, thou Wedding Guest! He prayeth well, who loveth well Both man, and bird, and beast! * He prayeth best, who loveth best All things, both great and small! For the dear GOD, who loveth us, He made and loveth all!' The Mariner, whose eye is bright, Whose beard with age is hoar. Is gone : and now the Wedding Guest Turned from the Bridegroom's door. He went, like one that hath been stunned, And is of sense forlorn : A sadder and a wiser man, He rose the morrow morn. 267 Smnuel Taylor Coleridge. CHRISTABEL. The First Part of the following Poem was written in the year one thousand seven hundred and ninety-seven, at Stowey in the county of Somerset. The Second Part, after my return from Germany, in the year one thou- sand eight hundred, at Keswick, Cumberland. Since the latter date [i. e. till 1 8 1 6], my poetic powers have been, till very lately, in a state of suspe^ided anima- tion. But as, hi my very first conception of the Tale, I had the whole present to my mind, with the wholeness, no less than the liveliness, of a Vision; I trust that I shall be able to embody in verse the Three Parts yet to come, in the course of the present year [ 1 8 1 6]. . . . / have only to add, that the metre of the Christabel is not, properly speaking, irregular: though it may seem so, from its being founded on a new pri7uiple; namely, that of counting in each line the Accents, not the Syllables. Though the latter may vary from Seven to Twelve ; yet in each line, the Accents will be found to be only Four. Nevertheless this occasional variation in the number of Syllables is not introduced wantotily, or for the mere ends of convenience ; but in corre- spondence with some transition in the nature of imagery, or Passion. 268 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. CHRISTABEL. Part I. 'Tis the middle of night by the Castle clock, And the owls have awakened the crowing cock, ' Tu-whit ! Tu-whoo ! ' And hark again ! The crowing cock, How drowsily it crew! Sir Leoline, the Baron rich, Hath a toothless mastiff bitch : From her kennel, beneath the rock, She makes answer to the clock. Four for the quarters, and twelve for the hour ; Ever and aye, moonshine and shower. Sixteen short howls, not over loud ; Some say, 'She sees my Lady's shroud!* Is the night chilly and dark ? The night is chilly, but not dark. The thin gray cloud is spread on high, It covers, but not hides, the sky. The moon is behind, and at the full ; And yet she looks both small and dull. The night is chill, the cloud is gray; 269 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. 'Tis a month before the month of May, And the Spring comes slowly up this way. The lovely Lady, Christabfx, Whom her father loves so well, What makes her in the wood so late, A furlong from the Castle gate ? She had dreams, all yesternight, Of her own betrothed Knight ; Dreams that made her moan and leap, As on her bed she lay in sleep ; And she, in the midnight wood, will pray For the weal of her Lover that 's far away. She stole along, she nothing spoke. The breezes, they were still also; And nought was green upon the oak But moss and rarest mistletoe : She kneels beneath the huge oak tree, And in silence prayeth she. The Lady leaps up suddenly, The lovely Lady, Christabel. It moaned as near, as near can be ; But what it is, she cannot tell ! On the other side, it seems to be, Of the huge, broad-breasted, old oak tree. The night is chill ; the forest, bare. It is the wind that moaneth bleak ? 270 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. There is not wind enough in the air To move away the ringlet curl From the lovely Lady's cheek ! There is not wind enough to twirl The one red leaf, the last of its clan, That dances as often as dance it can. Hanging so light, and hanging so high, On the topmost twig, that looks up at the sky ! Hush ! beating heart of Christabel ! Jesu! Maria! shield her well! She folded her arms beneath her cloak; And stole to the other side of the oak. What sees she there ? There, she sees a Damsel bright, Dressed in a silken robe of white ; Her neck, her feet, her arms, were bare; And the jewels disordered in her hair. I guess, 'twas frightful there to see A Lady so richly clad as she — Beautiful exceedingly! ' Mary ! Mother ! save me now I ' Said Christabel, ' And who art thou ? ' The Lady strange made answer meet, And her voice was faint and sweet. 'Have pity on my sore distress! 271 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. I scarce can speak for weariness ! Stretch forth thy hand, and have no fear!' Said Christabel, 'How cam'st thou here?' And the Lady, whose voice was faint and sweet, Did thus pursue her answer meet. * My Sire is of a noble line, And my name is Geraldine. Five warriors seized me yestermorn, Me, even me, a maid forlorn; They choked my cries with force and fright, And tied me on a palfrey white. The palfrey was as fleet as wind ; And they rode furiously behind. They spurred amain, their steeds were white; And once we crossed the shade of night. As sure as Heaven shall rescue me, I have no thought what men they be! Nor do I know how long it is (For I have lain in fits, I wis 1) Since one, the tallest of the five, Took me from the palfrey's back, A weary woman, scarce alive. Some muttered words his comrades spoke; He placed me underneath this oak; He swore they would return with haste. Whither they went, I cannot tell ! I thought I heard, some minutes past. Sounds as of a Castle bell, 272 Samtiel Taylor Coleridge. \ Stretch forth thy hand,' thus ended she, * And help a wretched maid to flee ! ' Then Christabel stretched forth her hand, And comforted fair Geraldine, Saying, ' That she should command The service of Sir Leoline; And straight be conveyed, free from thrall, Back to her noble fathers Hall.' So up she rose, and forth they passed; With hurrying steps, yet nothing fast. Her lucky stars, the Lady blest; And Christabel, she sweetly said, * All our household are at rest, Each one sleeping in his bed; Sir Leoline is weak in health, And may not well awakened be : So, to my room we'll creep in stealth; And you, to-night, must sleep with me!' They crossed the moat, and Christabel Took the key that fitted well; A little door she opened straight, All in the middle of the gate ; The gate that was ironed within and without, Where an army in battle array had marched out. The Lady sank, belike through pain; T 373 BHIT. ANTH. X. Samuel Taylor Coleridge, And Christabel, with might and main, Lifted her up, a weary weight, Over the threshold of the gate : Then the Lady rose again, And moved as she were not in pain. So, free from danger, free from fear, They crossed the court : right glad they were. And Christabel devoutly cried To the Lady by her side, * Praise we the Virgin all divine ! Who hath rescued thee from thy distress!' ' Alas ! Alas ! ' said Geraldine, ' I cannot speak for weariness ! ' So, free from danger, free from fear, They crossed the court; right glad they were. Outside her kennel, the mastiff old Lay fast asleep, in moonshine cold. The mastiff old did not awake ; Yet she an angry moan did make. And what can ail the mastiff bitch ? Never till now, she uttered yell Beneath the eye of Christabel ! Perhaps, it is the owlet's scritch ! For what can ail the mastiff bitch ? They passed the Hall, that echoes still, Pass as lightly as you will! 374 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. The brands were flat, the brands were dying, Amid their own white ashes lying; But when the Lady passed, there came A tongue of Hght ! a fit of flame ! And Christabel saw the Lady's eye; And nothing else saw she thereby, Save the boss of the shield of Sir Leoline tall, Which hung in a murky old niche in the wall. 'O, softly tread!' said Christabel, *My father seldom sleepeth well!' Sweet Christabel, her feet she bares. And they are creeping up the stairs, Now in glimmer, and now in gloom; And, now, they pass the Baron's room. As still as death, with stifled breath ; And, now, have reached her chamber door; And, now, with eager feet, press down The rushes of her chamber floor. The moon shines dim in the open air, And not a moonbeam enters here ; But they, without its light, can see The chamber carved so curiously. Carved with figures strange and sweet, All made out of the carver's brain, For a Lady's chamber meet. The lamp, with twofold silver chain Is fastened to an angel's feet. T 2 375 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. The silver lamp burns dead and dim; But Christabel the lamp will trim. She trimmed the lamp, and made it bright ; And left it swinging to and fro : While Geraldine, in wretched plight, Sank down upon the floor below. ' O, weary Lady Geraldine ! I pray you, drink this cordial wine ! It is a wine of virtuous powers ; My Mother made it of wild flowers.* * And will your Mother pity me. Who am a maiden most forlorn ? ' Christabel answered, 'Woe is me!* She died the hour that I was born! I have heard the gray-haired Friar tell, How, on her death-bed, she did say, "That she should hear the Castle bell Strike twelve upon my wedding day." O, Mother dear! that thou wert here!' ' I would,' said Geraldine, ' she were I * But soon, with altered voice, said she, ' Off, wandering Mother ! Peak and pine ! I have power to bid thee flee ! ' Alas ! what ails poor Geraldine ? 276 Samttel Taylor Coleridge. Why stares she, with unsettled eye ? Can she, the bodiless dead espy ? And why, with hollow voice, cries she, 'Off! woman, off! this hour is mine! Though thou her Guardian Spirit be, Off! woman, off! 'tis given to me!' Then Christabel knelt by the Lady's side. And raised to Heaven her eyes so blue. ' Alas ! ' said she, ' this ghastly ride, Dear Lady ! it hath wildered you I ' The Lady wiped her moist cold brow, And faintly said, "Tis over now!' Again the wild-flower wine she drank. Her fair large eyes 'gan glitter bright; And from the floor whereon she sank. The lofty Lady stood upright. She was most beautiful to see. Like a Lady of a far countree. And thus the lofty Lady spake, ' All they who live in the upper sky Do love you, holy Christabel! And you love them; and for their sake, And for the good which me befell. Even I, in my degree, will try. Fair Maiden! to requite you well! But now unrobe yourself; for I Must pray, ere yet in bed I lie!' 277 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Quoth Christabel, ' So let it be ! ' And as the Lady bade, did she. Her gentle limbs did she undress ; And lay down in her loveliness. But, through her brain, of weal and woe So many thoughts moved to and fro, That vain it were her lids to close! So halfway from the bed she rose ; And on her elbow did recline. To look at the Lady Geraldine. Beneath the lamp, the Lady bowed. And slowly rolled her eyes around ; Then, drawing in her breath aloud. Like one that shuddered, she unbound The cincture from beneath her breast. Her silken robe, and inner vest, Dropped to her feet ; and, full in view. Behold, her bosom and half her side — A sight to dream of, not to tell! And she is to sleep by Christabel! She took two paces, and a stride. And lay down by the Maiden's side: And in her arms, the Maid she took, Ah ! well-a-day ! And, with low voice and doleful look, These words did say. 278 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. ' In the touch of this bosom, there worketh a spell, Which is lord of thy utterance, Christabel! Thou knowest to-night, and wilt know to-morrow. This mark of my shame ! this seal of my sorrow ! But vainly thou warrest! For this is alone in Thy power to declare, That, in the dim forest. Thou heard'st a low moaning ; And found'st a bright Lady, surpassingly fair: And didst bring her home with thee, in love and in charity, To shield her and shelter her from the damp air.' The Conclusion to Part the First, It was a lovely sight to see The Lady Christabel, when she Was praying at the old oak tree. Amid the jagged shadows Of mossy leafless boughs, Kneeling in the moonlight. To make her gende vows; Her slender palms together prest. Heaving sometimes on her breast; Her face resigned to bliss, or bale (Her face, O, call it fair, not pale !) ; 279 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. And both blue eyes, more bright than clear, Each about to have a tear. With open eyes (ah! woe is me!) Asleep, and dreaming fearfully; Fearfully dreaming, yet I wis Dreaming that alone, which is — O, sorrow and shame ! Can this be she. The Lady, who knelt at the old oak tree ? And, lo! the worker of these harms, That holds the Maiden in her arms, Seems to slumber still and mild, As a mother with her child. A star hath set, a star hath risen, O, Geraldine! since arms of thine Have been the lovely Lady's prison. O, Geraldine! one hour was thine! Thou 'st had thy will! By tarn and rill, The night-birds all that hour were still : But now they are jubilant anew. From cliff and tower, ' Tu-whoo ! Tu-whoo ! ' ; ' Tu-whoo I Tu-whoo ! ' from wood and fell. And see! the Lady Christabel Gathers herself from out her trance ; Her limbs relax, her countenance Grows sad and soft; the smooth thin lids Close o'er her eyes; and tears she sheds, 280 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Larofe tears that leave the lashes bright! And, oft the while, she seems to smile As infants at a sudden light. Yea ! she doth smile, and she doth weep Like a youthful Hermitess, Beauteous in a wilderness ; Who, praying always, prays in sleep. And, if she move unquietly. Perchance, 'tis but the blood so free Comes back and tingles in her feet. No doubt she hath a Vision sweet! What if her Guardian Spirit 'twere ? What if she knew her Mother near? But this she knows, in joys and woes, That Saints will aid, if men will call; For the blue sky bends over all! 28t Samuel Taylor Coleridge. CHRISTABEL. Part IL * Each Matin bell,' the Baron saith, 'Knells us back to a world of death!' These words Sir Leoline first said, When he rose and found his Lady dead These words Sir Leoline will say Many a morn, till his dying day. And hence the custom and law began, That still, at dawn, the Sacristan Who duly pulls the heavy bell, Five-and-forty beads must tell Between each stroke — a warning knell ! Which not a soul can choose but hear From Bratha Head to Windermere. Saith Bracy the Bard, 'So let it knell! And let the drowsy Sacristan Still count as slowly as he can ! There is no lack of such, I ween! As well fill up the space between. In Langdale Pike and Witch's Lair, And Dungeon Ghyll so foully rent, With ropes of rock and bells of air, 282 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Three sinful Sextons' ghosts are pent; Who all give back, one after t'other, The death-note to their living brother! And oft too (by the knell offended), Just as their "One! Two! Three!" is ended; The Devil mocks the doleful tale, With a merry peal from Borrowdale!' The air is still. Through mist and cloud, That merry peal comes ringing loud; And Geraldine shakes off her dread. And rises lightly from the bed ; Puts on her silken vestments white. And tricks her hair in lovely plight: And, nothing doubting of her spell. Awakes the Lady Christabel. ' Sleep you, sweet Lady Christabel ? I trust that you have rested well ! ' And Christabel awoke, and spied The same who lay down by her side, O, rather say, the same whom she Raised up beneath the old oak tree : Nay! fairer yet, and yet more fair! For she, belike, hath drunken deep Of all the blessedness of sleep. And while she spake, her looks, her Air, Such gentle thankfulness declare, That (so it seemed) her girded vests Grew tight beneath her heaving breasts. 283 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. * Sure, I have sinned ! ' said Christabel, 'Now Heaven be praised, if all be well!' And, in low faltering tones, yet sweet, Did she the lofty Lady greet, With such perplexity of mind As dreams too lively leave behind. So quickly she rose, and quickly arrayed Her maiden limbs; and (having prayed That He, who on the cross did groan. Might wash away her sins unknown!) She forthwith led fair Geraldine To meet her Sire, Sir Leoline. The lovely Maid and the Lady tall Are pacing both into the Hall ; And, pacing on through Page and Groom, Enter the Baron's Presence Room. The Baron rose ; and, while he prest His gentle daughter to his breast, With cheerful wonder in his eyes. The Lady Geraldine espies ; And gave such welcome to the same, As might beseem so bright a Dame. But, when he heard the Lady's tale, And when she told her father's name ; Why waxed Sir Leoline so pale, 284 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Murmuring o'er the name again, * Lord Roland de Vaux of Tryermaine ' ? Alas ! they had been friends in youth ; But whispering tongues can poison truth! And constancy lives in realms above ! And life is thorny, and Youth is vain! And to be wroth with one we love. Doth work like madness in the brain! And thus it chanced, as I divine, With Roland and Sir Leoline. Each spake words of high disdain And insult to his heart's best brother. They parted — ne'er to meet again ! But never either found another To free the hollow heart from paining! They stood aloof, the scars remaining; Like cliffs which had been rent asunder! A dreary sea now flows between ; But neither heat, nor frost, nor thunder, Shall wholly do away, I ween! The marks of that which once hath been. Sir Leoline, a moment's space, Stood gazing on the Damsel's face; And the youthful Lord of Tryermaine Came back upon his heart again. O, then the Baron forgot his age! His noble heart swelled high with rage ! 285 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. He swore, by the wounds in Jesu's side! He would proclaim it far and wide, With trump and solemn Heraldry, That they, who thus had wronged the Dame, Were base as spotted infamy! ' And if they dare deny the same, My Herald shall appoint a week ; And let the recreant traitors seek My Tourney Court! that, there and then, I may dislodge their reptile souls From the bodies and forms of men ! ' He spake: his eye in lightning rolls! For the Lady was ruthlessly seized ; and he kenned In the beautiful Lady, the child of his friend. And now the tears were on his face. And fondly in his arms he took Fair Geraldine ; who met th' embrace, Prolonging it with joyous look. Which when she viewed, a Vision fell Upon the soul of Christabel, The Vision of fear, the touch and pain! She shrank, and shuddered, and saw again, (Ah I woe is me ! Was it for thee, Thou gentle Maid ! such sights to see ? ) — Again, she saw that bosom old ! Again, she felt that bosom cold! And drew in her breath, with a hissing sound : Whereat the Knight turned wildly round, 286 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. And nothing saw, but his own sweet Maid, With eyes upraised, as one that prayed. The touch, the sight, had passed away; And, in its stead, that Vision blest Which comforted her after-rest, While in the Lady's arms she lay, Had put a rapture in her breast; And on her lips and o'er her eyes Spread smiles like light! With new surprise, * What ails then my beloved child ? ' The Baron said. His daughter mild Made answer, ' All will yet be well ! ' I ween, she had no power to tell Aught else : so mighty was the spell ! Yet he, who saw this Geraldine, Had deemed her, sure, a thing divine! Such sorrow with such grace she blended, As if she feared she had offended Sweet Christabel, that gentle Maid; And with such lowly tones she prayed She might be sent, without delay, Home to her father's mansion. ' Nay! Nay! by my soul!' said Leoline. 'Ho' Bracy the Bard! the charge be thine! 287 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Go thou, with music sweet and loud, And take two steeds, with trappings proud ; And take the Youth whom thou lov'st best To bear thy harp, and learn thy Song; And clothe you both in solemn vest; And over the mountains haste along, Lest wand'ring folk, that are abroad, Detain you on the valley road. And when he has crossed the Irthing flood, My merry Bard, he hastes, he hastes Up Knorren Moor, through Halegarth Wood, And reaches soon that Castle good, Which stands and threatens Scotland's wastes. Bard Bracy ! Bard Bracy ! your horses are fleet ; Ye must ride up the Hall, your music so sweet. More loud than your horses' echoing feet! And loud and loud to Lord Roland call, "Thy Daughter is safe in Langdale Hall, Thy beautiful Daughter is safe and free. Sir Leoline greets thee thus, through me. He bids thee come, without delay, With all thy numerous array. And take thy lovely Daughter home: And he will meet thee on the way, With all his numerous array. White with their panting palfreys' foam." And, by mine honour! I will say, ' That I repent me of the day When I spake words of fierce disdain To Roland de Vaux of Tryermaine! 388 Samuel Taylor Coleridge, For since that evil hour hath flown, Many a summer's sun hath shone; Yet ne'er found I a friend again Like Roland de Vaux of Tryermaine.'" The Lady fell, and clasped his knees, Her face upraised, her eyes o'erflowing : And Bracy replied, with faltering voice, His gracious 'Hail!' on all bestowing. ' Thy words, thou Sire of Christabel ! Are sweeter than my harp can tell! Yet, might I gain a boon of thee, This day, my journey should not be! So strange a dream hath come to me, That I had vowed, with music loud. To clear yon wood from thing unblest! Warned by a Vision in my rest. For, in my sleep, I saw that dove, That gentle bird whom thou dost love, And call'st by thy own daughter's name — Sir Leoline! I saw the same Fluttering, and uttering fearful moan. Among the green herbs in the forest alone. Which when I saw and when I heard, I wondered what might ail the bird! For nothing near it could I see [tree. Save the grass and green herbs underneath the old And in my dream, methought, I went To search out what might there be found; And what the sweet bird's trouble meant, BRIT. ANTH. X. U 289 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. That thus lay fluttering on the ground. I went and peered, and could descry No cause for her distressful cry : But yet, for her dear Lady's sake, I stooped, methought, the dove to take, When, lo ! I saw a bright green snake Coiled around its wings and neck. Green as the herbs on which it couched. Close by the dove's, its head it crouched; And with the dove, it heaves and stirs, Swelling its neck, as she swelled hers. I woke : it was the midnight hour, The clock was echoing in the tower ; But though my slumber was gone by. This dream, it would not pass away! It seems to live upon my eye ! And thence I vowed, this self-same day, With music strong and saintly Song, To wander through the forest bare, Lest aught unholy loiter there ! ' Thus Bracy said : the Baron, the while, Half listening, heard him with a smile; Then turned to Lady Geraldine, His eyes made up of wonder and love, And said, in courtly accents fine, ' Sweet Maid ! Lord Roland's beauteous dove ! With arms more strong than harp or Song, Thy Sire and I will crush the snake ! ' He kissed her forehead, as he spake, 290 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. And Geraldine, in maiden wise. Casting down her large bright eyes, With blushing cheek and courtesy fine She turned her from Sir Leoline ; Sofdy gathering up her train, That o'er her right arm fell again ; And folded her arms across her chest, And couched her head upon her breast, And looked askance at Christabel! Jesu ! Maria! shield her well! A snake's small eye blinks dull and shy; And the Lady's eyes, they shrunk in her head, Each shrank up to a serpent's eye ; And, with somewhat of malice, and more of dread, At Christabel, she looked askance : One moment — and the sight was fled! But Christabel, in dizzy trance, Stumbling on the unsteady ground, Shuddered aloud, with a hissing sound: And Geraldine again turned round; And, like a thing that sought relief. Full of wonder and full of grief, She rolled her large bright eyes divine Wildly on Sir Leoline. The Maid, alas! her thoughts are gone? She nothing sees — no sight but one! U 2 291 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. The Maid, devoid of guile and sin, I know not how ! in fearful wise, So deeply had she drunken in That look, those shrunken serpent eyes, That all her features were resigned To this sole image in her mind ; And passively did imitate That look of dull and treacherous hate. And thus she stood, in dizzy trance, Still picturing that look askance. With forced unconscious sympathy, Full before her father's view ; As far as such a look could be In eyes so innocent and blue. But when the trance was o'er, the Maid Paused awhile, and inly prayed ; Then, falling at her father's feet, ' By my Mother's soul ! do I entreat That thou this woman send away!' She said : and more she could not say ; For what she knew, she could not tell, O'ermastered by the mighty spell. Why is thy cheek so wan and wild. Sir Leoline ? Thy only child Lies at thy feet, thy joy! thy pride! So fair ! so innocent ! so mild ! The same for whom thy Lady died! O, by the pangs of her dear Mother! 292 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Think thou no evil of thy child! For her, and thee, and for no other, She prayed the moment ere she died! Prayed that the babe, for whom she died, Might prove her dear lord's joy and pride! That prayer her deadly pangs beguiled, Sir Leoline! And wouldst thou wrong thy only child? Her child and thine ? Within the Baron's heart and brain. If thoughts like these had any share. They only swelled his rage and pain; And did but work confusion there. His heart was cleft with pain and rage ; His cheeks, they quivered, his eyes were wild. Dishonoured thus in his old age ! Dishonoured by his only child! And all his hospitality To th' insulted daughter of his friend, By more than woman's jealousy, Brought thus to a disgraceful end! He rolled his eye with stern regard Upon the gentle Minstrel Bard, And said, in tones abrupt, austere, 'Why, Bracy! dost thou loiter here? I bade thee hence!' The Bard obeyed: And, turning from his own sweet Maid, The aged Knight, Sir Leoline, Led forth the Lady Geraldine. 293 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. The Conclusion to Part the Second. A LITTLE child, a limber Elf, Singing, dancing to itself, A fairy thing with red round cheeks, That always finds, and never seeks, Makes such a vision to the sight As fills a father's eyes with light; And pleasures flow in so thick and fast Upon his heart, that he, at last. Must needs express his love's excess With words of unmeant bitterness ! Perhaps, 'tis pretty to force together Thoughts so all unlike each other! To mutter and mock a broken charm ! To dally with wrong that does no harm ! Perhaps, 'tis tender too and pretty, At each wild word, to feel within A sweet recoil of love and pity! And what if, in a world of sin (O, sorrow and shame ! should this be true), Such giddiness of heart and brain Comes seldom, save from rage and pain; So talks as it 's most used to do! 294 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Mr, James Gillman in his unfinished Life of S. T. Coleridge, London, 1838, Svo, thus describes the rest of the plan of this Poem. 'The following relation was to have occupied a Third and Fourth Canto ', and to have closed the Tale. 'Over the mountains, the Bard, as directed by Sir Leoline, 'hastes' with his disciple ; but, in consequence of one of those inundations supposed to be common to this country, the spot only where the Castle once stood is discovered — the edifice itself being washed away. He determines to return. Geraldine being acquainted with all that is passing, like the Weird Sisters in Macbeth, vanishes. ' Reappearing, however, she waits the return of the Bard, exciting, in the mean time, by her wily arts, all the anger she could rouse in the Baron's breast, as well as that jealousy of which he is described to have been susceptible. The old Bard and the Youth at length arrive: and therefore she can no longer personate the character of Geraldine, the daughter of Lord Roland de Vaux ; but changes her appearance to that of the accepted, though absent, Lover of Christabel. ' Next, ensues a courtship most distressing to Christabel; who feels, she knows not Why, great disgust for her once favoured Knight. This coldness is very painful to the Baron ; who has no more conception than herself of the supernatural transformation. She, at last, yields to her father's entreaties; and consents to approach the altar with this hated suitor. ' The real Lover returning, enters at this moment ; and produces the ring which she had once given him, in sign of her betrothment. Thus defeated, the super- natural being, Geraldine, disappears. 'As predicted, the Castle bell tolls, the Mother's voice is heard ; and, to the exceeding great joy of the parties, the rightful marriage takes place : after which follows a reconciliation and explanation between the father and daughter.' " Coleridge himself states that there were to be Three more Parts or Cantos, see page 268.— E. A. 295 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. A HYMN, My Maker! of Thy Power the trace In every creature's form and face, The wond'ring soul surveys ! Thy Wisdom, infinite above Seraphic thought, a Fathers Love As infinite displays ! From all that meets or eye or ear. There falls a genial holy fear; Which, like the heavy dew of Morn, Refreshes, while it bows the heart forlorn. Great GOD ! Thy Works how wondrous fair ! Yet sinful Man didst Thou declare The whole Earth's voice and mind ! Lord! ev'n as Thou all-present art, O, may we still, with heedful heart, Thy presence know and find I Then, come what will of weal or woe, Joy's bosom-spring shall steady flow! For, though 'tis Heaven Thyself to see ; Where but Thy Shadow falls, Grief cannot be! The End of The Cowper Anthology. 296 FIRST LINES AND NOTES. All the Works herein quoted were published in London, unless otherwise stated. Where a text is found associated with music, (M.) is put after its date. G. 360, H. 2821, &c. are the Press-marks of the Volumes of engraved Songs in the Music Department of the British Museum, from which the present texts have been taken. PAGE A Book, a Friend, a Song, a Glass 44 W. Thompson. Poems, I, Oxford, »757- ' Ah ! ope. Lord Gregory ! thy door 1 135 Rev. J. WoLcoT (Peter Pindar). In G. Thomson's SeUct Collection, ^c, 2nd Set [1798]. (M.) Ah! tell me no more, my dear Girl! 133 Rev. J. WoLCOT (Peter Pindar). In J. Aikin's Vocal Poetry, 1810. A little chUd, a limber Elf 294 S. T. Coleridge. Christabel, 1816. All thoughts, all passions, all — 234 S. T. Coleridge. Lyrical Ballcds, I, 2nd Ed., 1800. Altho' thou maun never be mine . . 75 R. Burns. In G/ Thomson's Select Collection, >j C. Lloyd. Blank Verse by C. Ll.ovn and C. Lamh, 1798. I rose up at the dawn 01 day 144 W. Blake. Poetical Works, 1880. Is there, for honest Poverty 60 R. Burns. Works, IV, ed. by J. CURRIE, M.D., Liverpool, 1800. It is an Ancient Marmer 241 S. T. Coleridge. Lyrical Ballads, Bristol, 1798. The present is the revised text of Lyrical Ballads, I, 1800. Wordsworth contributed some lines to this Poem. First Lines and Notes. It was a lovely sight to see 270 S. T. Coleridge. Chrislabel. 1816. I've gotten a rock ! I've gotten a . . i cs S. Blamike. Poetical Works, Edin., 1842. I've no sheep on the mountain, nor 107 J. Baillie. Fugitive Verses, 1840. John Anderson, my Jo ! John ! 88 R. Burns. In J. Johnson's Scots Musical Museum, III, Edin., 1790. (M. ) These two stanzas were added by Burns to two earlier ones. The entire Poem will be found in G. Thomson's Select Collection, *f., xxd Set f i7qo1. (M.) - ^ . o /vvj John Gilpin was a Citizen i W. CowPER. In Public Advertiser for November 14, 1782. Lapped on Cythera's golden sands 206 Hon. W. R. Spencer. Poems, 1835. Last May, a braw Wooer cam' .... 86 R. Burns. In G. Thomson's Select Collection, S,c., 3rd Set | 1799]. (M.) Laura ! thy sighs must now no ... . 227 Prof. W. Smyth. English L,yrics, II, 1806. Loud roared the dreadful thunder 230 A. Cherry. In T/ie Spanish Dol- lars [18041, composed by John Davy. G. 801;. Luxixriant with perennial green . . 100 H. J. Pye, MP., P.L. Faringdon Hill, f)C., 2nd Ed., Oxford, 1778. This poem is written against the Ladies using white powder in their hair. Milton! thou shouldst be living at 169 \V. Wordsworth, P.L. Written in London, 1802. In Poems, I, 1807. Mine be a Cot beside the hill! 106 S. Rogers. Ah Ode to Superstition, ^c, 1786. My heart is a breaking, dear 58 R. Burns. In J. Johnson's Scots Musical Museum, III, Edin., 1790. (M.) My heart leaps up>, when I behold . . 183 W. Wordsworth, P.L. Poems, II, 1807. My loVd, my honor'd, much 66 K. Burns. Poems, Kilmarnock, 1786. My Maker I of thy Power the trace 296 S. T. Coleridge. Poems, 1852. My mother bids me bind my hair . . 95 A. Hunter. Poems, 1802. ' My silks and fine array 14J W. B. [W. Blake]. Poetical Sketches, 1783. Needy Knife-Grinder ! whither are 212 The Authors of The Anti-Jacobin or Weekly Examiner ior Nov. 27, 1797. No more of my Harriot ! of Polly . 4-J C. Smart. Poems, II, Reading, 1791. V ..e ^t. PAGE not for the promise of the laboured 112 H. O'Neill, Viscountess O'Neill. In C. Smith's Elegiac Sonnets, <5,. O, whistle, and iTf come to you .... R. Burns. In G. Thomson s Select Collection, -J-c, 4th Set [1802]. (M.) PAGE 229 74 Piping down the valleys wild i.?9 W. Blakh. Songs of Innocence. Kngravt'd 1789. Prithee, sweet Fair One I why so . . 158 Sir J. H. Moore, Bart. Poetical Triflts, 3rd Ed., 1783. Queen of the silver bow ! by thy . . 92 C.Smith. Elegiac Sonnets, 17%/^. Say, sweet Carol! Who are they. 191 J. Baillie. Ethtvald in A Series of Plays, -yc, II, 1798-1812. Scots, wha ha'e wi' Wallace bled 84 R. Burns. In G. Thomson's Select Collection, . She was a Phantom of delight .... 182 W. Wordsworth, P.L. Poems, I, 1807. This is a description of MARY Hutchinson, whom he married. Should auld acquaintance be 76 R. Burns. This is the version in J. Johnson's Scots Musical Museum, V, Edin, 1796. (M.) There is another version in G. Thomson's Select Collec- tion. *ec., 3rd Set [1799]- (M) Soft child of Love ! thou balmy .... 137 Rev. J. WoLcoT (Peter Pindar). Pindariana, 1794. Some talk of Alexander, and some 4 1 Anon. In The Musical Miscellany, Perth, 1786. (M.) It is said that this Song was written in 1779, in connexion with C. DiBDIN's Harlequin Every where. ' So passed a weary time : each .... 247 S. T. Coleridge. Lyrical Ballads, I, 1800. Strange fits of Passion I have .... 170 W. Wordsworth, P.L. Lyrical Bal- lads, II, 1800. The Bard, whom the charms of — 228 Prof. W. Smyth. English Lyrics, II, 1806. The chough and crow to roost are 190 J. Baiixie. Orra in A Series of Plays, ffC, III, 1798-1812. The heeirth was clean, the fire — 124 Anon. In J. Retzer's Choice, i^c, II, Vienna, 1785; from London Chronicle ^or November, 1783. • The Hermit good lives in that — 263 S. T. Coleridgb. Lyrical Ballads, 1, 1800. 300 PAQB The Laird o' Cockpen, he 's proud . aai ! C. Nairne, Baroness Nairne. Life and Songs, 1869. The last two stanzas, within square brackets, were written by Miss S. K. FerRIER. The lapse of Time and Rivers is .. 13 W. COWPER. Poems, 1782. The lazy mist hangs from the brow 83 R. Burns. In G. Thomson's Select Collection, ^c, and Set 1 1798). (M.) The Maiden, through the favouring 186 R. Southey, P.L. Minor Poems, III, 1815. The Maid that 's blessed with aio [A. M. Porter.] Original Poems, [1798]. ^ 1 The moon had climbed the highest 102 ' J. Lowe. In Edinburgh Magasint for December, 1785. (\1.) Then hey, for a Lass wi' a tocher I 85 R. Burns. In G. Thomson's Select Collection, tirC, 4th Set | i8oj1. (M.) The Nymph must lose her female . . ^7 W. Cowper. Poems, 1782. The partial Muse has, from my — ')i C.Smith. Elegiac Sonnets, 1704. The Poplars are felled; and Adieu 26 W. Cowper. In Gentlem.an' s Maga- zine for J anuary, 1 785. There is a field, through which I . . W. Cowper. Poems, II, 1708. There 's a Youth in this City, it . . < , R. Burns. In J. Johnson s Scots Musical Museum, III, Edin., 1790. (M.) The first two lines in square brackets are a fragment of an old Scotch song. There 's nought but care on ev'ry . 53 R. Burns. Poems, Edin., 1787. There was a Boy ; ye knew him . . 165 W. Wordsworth, P.L. Lyrical Bal- lads, II, 1800. This boy was Words- worth himself. There was an old man, and 4*^ Anon. In The Convivial Songster, [1782]. (M.) The Rose had been washed, just . . 1 .< W. Cowper. In Gentleman's Maga- ai»« for June, 1785. The Sailor sighs, as sinks his — 106 S.Rogers. An Ode to Superstition, ffC, 1786. The sun does arise i\o W. Blake. Songs of Innocence. Engraved 1789. The sun from the East tips the 1 2.S P. Whitehead. Poet?ts, i-j-jy. ' The sun now rose upon the right . 245 S. T. Coleridge. Lyrical Ballads, 1, J 800. 'The sun sets in night, and the Stars 94 A. Hunter. Poems, 1802. The teeirs I shed must ever fall ! . . 204 , H. U'Arcy Stewart. In J. John- i son's Scots Musical Museum, IV, Edin. [1792]. This Poem is some- First Lines and Notes. PAGE times attributed to Miss C. or Miss C N ; which both stand for Crans- TOUN, Mrs. Stewart's maiden name. The twentieth year is wellnigh 37 W. COWPER. Poems, III, 1815. The village bells ring merrily 94 A. Hunter. Poems, 1802. This Cap, that so stately appears . 35 W. CowPER. Poems, III, 1815. 'Though Dorander 's sincere 210 [A. M. Porter.] Original Poems, J.798]. Thus, lately, to Cupid I offered my 109 Lieut.-Col. J. Dalrymple. In A. Dalrymple's Collection, ^c, iyg6. Time may Ambition's nest destroy 93 A. Hunter. Poems, 1802. 'Tis the middle of night by the 269 S. T. Coleridge. Christabel, 1816. Toll for the brave! 28 W. CowPER. Poems, III, 1815. To tinkling brooks, to twilight .... 40 Rev. T. Warton, B.D., P.L. In J. Rn son's Collection, , a grey cloth of undyed wool. By the holy rood! 262, a cross on w hich was the figure of the Saviour. Honey-dew, 258, a sweet sticky substance, found on the leaves of plants, &c., deposited by aphides, or secreted by the plants them- selves. Honor, 69, honour. Honor d, 66, honoured. Hope (Hon. W. R. Spenser), 207. The horned moon, 250, the crescent moon, in her first quarter. Houghs, no, the legs from below the knees. Housie, 55. little house. How, 118, hollow, dell. How d' ye do ? (Hon. W. R. Spenser), 207-209. How-d'ye-doing, 209, saying ' How d'ye do ? ' Howe'er, 73, however. Howlet, 121, a young owl. Hue and Cry, ii, outcry for the pursuit of a felon. Naked hulk, 249, the body of a ship with its ribs bared. Hunder marks ten, 58, a thousand Scotch marks, at IS. \hd. each = about ;{[ 50. Himter, A., 93-95. I', 79, >.S-4. 'S."!. '"• lanthe (W. Thompson), 44. I'd, 87, I had. I'd, 109, 113, 239, I would. An Idyllion, 15J, a short descriptive pastoral poem. Ilk, 85, 122, 123, 154, each. Ilka, 59, 122, 155, 162, 163, every. I'll, 42, 46, 47, 55, 58, 98, &c., I will. I'm, 47, 55, 58, 92, 104, 116, &c., 1 am. Incens'd, 72, incensed. Inebriate, 240, intoxicated, stupefied. Ingle, 67, 70, fireside. Innocence (Hon. \\ . R. Spencer), 207. In'l, 120, in it. Intent, 210, intenti) . Int'rest, 134, interest. Irthing, 288. Isaiah, 71. Isling^ton, 7, a suburl> of London. Italian trills, ^o. It had been, 255, it would have been. Ither(s), 122, 156, other(s). I've, 46. 48, 69", n8, J 19, 133, i. 155, ISO, &c., I have. 1 Ivy -tod, 263, an ivy-bush ; a stump of a tree, or a bush, covered with ivy. I wis, 280. Jack (W. Blake), 146. h wild Jack hare, 24, a male hare. Jade, 81, Jad, 86, a scoffing term applied to women. Jamie (J. Ewen), 198, 199. Jamie (H. Macneill), 123. Jane (W. Wordsworth, P.L.X : 168. ^ Janetie (J. Ewen), 199. \ To jauk, 68, to trifle, dally. Jean (R. Bums), 86, 87. Jean [Armour, whom Burns . marriedj, 80. Jean, Mistress (R. Burns), 62, 63. Jean, Mistress (C. Nalrne, Baroness Nairne), 221. ->.'j Jee, 154, depart, fly awav. A jeer, 123/? a smile. Jenny (R. Bums), 67-69. Jess'mine, 42, jessamine. Jessy (R. Bums), 71;. Jim (W. Wordsworth, P.L.X ■ 1 66. My jo ! 76, 77, 88, my dear! Joan (Rev. J. Wolcot), 128, 129. Job, 71. Jock (S. Blamire), 156. Jock (J. Ewen), 199. Jock(H. Macneill), 121. Joe (W. Blake), 146. John (W. Blake), 141. John (C. Naime, Ban.; Naime), 218. Johnie(H. Macneill), 120, 121. Johnny (Anon.), 1 1 1. Jove, loi). The Island of Juan Fernan- dez, 21. Julia (M. G. Lewis), 202. Glossary and Index. Kebbuck, 70, cheese. Kempenfeit, Rear- Admiral R., 28, 29. Ken, 59, 65, know. Ken, 196, \-ie\v. Kenn'd, 86, 156, Kenned, 286, knew. Kens, 68, knows. Keswick, Cumberland, 268. Kiaup;h, 67. carking anxiety. Kilwick Wood, 30, 31. The King, 12, KingGeorge III. Kirk, 7a, 119, 222, 242, 261, 266, Church. Kitty (W. Blake), 142. Knorren Moor, 288. Know, 118, knoll, hillock. Knowes, 85, knolls, hillocks. Kortch [= curch], 199, a woman's cap, a kerchief. Kye, 69, cows, kine. Labor(8), 67, 68, labours). Laddie, 62-65, 122, 123, a young lad ; used as a term of endearment. Lade, 163, load. Lag, 263, remain behind. Laigh, 222, low. LailaCR. Southey, P.L.), 186- 188. Laird, 58, 64, 86, 123, 221, 222, landed proprietor, squire. Lairdsbip, 81, property, lord- ship. Laitn, ■^., loth. Laithfu' [ = loathful], 69, shy. Lamb, C, 223. The Lammie, 118, 119, the little lamb. Lammies, 1 10, little lambs. Land o' the leal, 218. 219, land of the faithful or bless- ed, heaven. Lane—see Thy lane. Lang, 63, 86, iii, 156, 221, long. Langdale Hall, 288. Langdale Pike, 282. Langer, 65, 85, longer. L£mgest, 157, longest. Langest-winded, iii, long- est-winded. Langs, 218, longs. .\uld lang syne [= old long- sincel, 76, 77, old long-ago. Lang-tocher'd, 64, well- dowered. Lank, 250, lean, slender. Largo Bay, Fifeshire, Scot- land, 198. Lass, Lassie, 80, 87, 89, 120-123, 156, 162, 163, &c., a j'Oung girl or woman ; used as a term of endear- ment. Lasses, 53, 54, 64, 117, 163, young girls or women. Lass with the Golden Locks, The (C. Smart), , 42, 43- Laughsome, 242, mirthful. Laura (Prof. W. Smyth), 227. The Lave, 55, 69, the rest, the others. Lea'e, 56, leave. Leal, 218, 219, faithful, true. Lear, 199, learning. Leave, 119, forsake. Leesome, 198, pleasant, agreeable. Leil, 123, true, faithful. Len' [= lend], ';8, give. Leoline, Sir (S. T. Coleridge), 269-295. Lesley, 8 2, M iss Lesley Baillie. Lewis, M. G., 200-202. Thou lies, 78, thou liest. Lifts, 78, liftest. Lightly, 74, make light of. Like of, 256, like that of. Lilting, lio, singing. Ling'ring, 235, lingering. Lint was i'" the bell, flax was in flower. Lisetta(Rev.J. Wolcot), 126, 127. List'ning, 121, listening. Liv'd, 83, lived. Llanwellyn, 197. Lloyd, C, 190. Loan [ = loaning], 86, 70, My Love, the Lady, or Gentleman, I love. My love, the love I have for that person. Lovell, R., 189. Lover, a man who loves a woman. Also called, Ser- vant, True Love. Lov'st, 39, 288, lo\est. LowCj J., 102, 103. Lo wrie,the Laird (R.Bams), 58. Liibin (A. Hunter), 95. Lubin (Rev. J. Wolcot), 126, 127. Lucy (Anon.), 104, 105. Lucy (S. Rogers), \o6. Lucy (W. Wordsworth, P.L.), 170, 171. Lumber, 11, noise Luve, 59, Love, Lover. Luver, 59, Lover. '^ Lyart baffets, 70, ^ grey cheeks. Lysander, 41. McClisb, Miss J. (C. Naime, Baroness Nairne), 221. Macneill, H., 118-123. Maid of Llanwellyn, 197. Mail,_ 195, armour. Mailin "[= mailen], 64, 80, 252, farm. Meiin, 29, 103, 104, 252, ocean. Mair, 85, 121, 123, more. narrow way between hedges, \ MaistL 64, most. &c. Lock'd, 75, locked. Lo'e, 59, 75, 80, no, &c., love. Lo'es, 64, loves. London, i, 138. He, who lone in Patmos banished, 71, St. John, the Apostle and Evangelist. Loo, 121, 123, love. Loo'd, 122, loved. Look'st, 245, lookest. Loon, 242, a stupid fellow, a fool. The looped clothes, 41. Loot on, 86, let on. Lordling, 73, a little lord. Lothbury, London, 181. Lov'd, ,54, 66, 72, loved. Mak, Mak', 58, 61, 119, 121, 122, make. Makin', 222, making. The Mall, London, 43. Mammon (W. Blake), 144, '45- Mammy [= Mama], 118, 119, mother. 'Mang, 78, 121, among. Manuel (R. Southey, P.L.), 186-188. Maria (Prof. W. Smyth), 228. Maria! 271, 291, the Virgin Mary. Marian (Rev. I. Wolcot), 135. Marion (H. Macneill), 120, 121. Marks, s8, Scotch coins worth Love, the affection between _ individuals of the opposite Meirs, 114, 226. sexes that are capable of | ' Martyrs,' 70, a Scoieli intermarriage. hymn-tune. In love. I Mary, 13, 37-39. Mary Lnwni. X 2 307 Glossary and Index. Mary(W. Blake), 147. Mary (R.Gail), 163. Mary (I- I^owp), 102, 103. Mary Ann, Lady ( R. Burns), 65- Mary! Mother, ■i^\, Mary, Queen, 253, the Virgin Marj'. Mast, 232, acorns. Matin song, 47, morning song. Matthew (W. Wordsworth, P.L.), 178. Maun, 55, 58, 7^, &c, must. Mauna, 58, (n, &c., must not. Mavis, 162, the song-thrush. Heg[= Margaret] (R. Burns), 64. Meg (H. Macneill), lao. Helodie, 8g, melody. Mem'ry, 18, 90, memory. 'Mid, 164, 190, 217, Mid, 173, 17Q, amid. Might na been, 163, might not have been. Hiltiades, 41. Milton, i6g. Hinds me [ = reminds], 59, remindest; 80, reminds. My Minnie, 58, mother. Minstrelsy, 243, minstrels or musicians. Minuet, 225, a dance. Miskens her. 156, does not know herself. Mis'ry's, 79, Misery's. Mistress, always, in this Series, in a good sense ; with its many equivalents, such as, sweet Heart! &c. Mither(s), 220, 121, motheKs). Moat, 194, a deep ditch or trench, generally filled with water. Moil, 67, toil, labour. Monie, Mony, 56, 76, 80, 88, 119, ly, &c., many. Moore, Bart. ; Sir J. H., 158, >.'i9- Morison, M. (R. Bums), 57. Morn, 67, the next day. Moses, 71. Mote, 232, might. Mou, .sS, 118, 122, mouth. Mourh'st, 79, mournest. Mousie ! 56, little mouse ! Mov'st, 39, movest. Mulciber, 36, Vulcan. Murcia, Spain, 186. Murcian, 188, a native of Murcia. Mnrd'ring, 54, murdering. Murd'rous, 237, murderous. Murlain, 199, a round, nar- row-mouthed basket. Mutch, 232, a linen or muslin cap. .\ Mutton, 33, a sheep. Myrtle and Bramble, 100, 101. My sell, 154, Myser, 199, myself. Na, 53-55, 57, 74, 120, &C., not. Na, Nae, 163, 222, no. Nae, 68, 7arly hours of the morning, as one, two, S:c. Short'ning, 102, 117, shorten- ing. Shouther, 87, shoulder. Shrieve, 262, 265. absolve. Sic, 58, 82, 155, 162, 222, &c., sue*!). Sieh'd, 57, sighed. Silent light, 261, steady, un- disturbed. Siller [ = silver], 58, 64,money, wealth. Siller, I";;, silver. Silly, 5";, frail. Silly " l)uckets, 253, frail, shallow. Sin', 70, Sin, 76, since. Siniu', 218, sinful. Skaith, 162, an injury. Skaithe, 82, injure. A skelp, 81, slap, stroke. Skiff-boat, 263, a small light boat. Slae, 64, the sloe. Slee, 162, si)'. Sleeket, 54, sleek. Sleepin', 219, sleeping. Slipp'ry, 230, slippery. Slumber (Hon. W. R. Spen- cer), 207. Sma', 55, 121, small. Smart, C., 42, 43. Smith, C, 92. Guides him smooth, or grim, 259, whether calm or stormy. Smyth, Prof. W., 226-228. Snap, 49, closing the fan sharply. Snapper, 81, stagger. Snaw, 64, 88, 120, snow. Snawie, 78, snowy. Snell, 55, biting, bitter. Soupe, 70, soup. Southey, P.L. ; R., 184-188. Sowtbers, 81, solders. Spak, 86, spake. Spen, 63, spend. Spencer, Hon. W. R., 206- 209. Spey, 229, a river in Aber- deenshire, Scotland. 'Spied, 240, espied. Spier' d, 87, inquired. Spiers, 68, asks, inquires. Spouse, 2, wife. Spreckl'd, 78, speckled. Spring, 22(>, a quick air in music, a reel. Sp'rit, 189, spirit. Thou 'st, 243, thoa hast. Stacber, 67, stagger. Stane, 78, stone. Star, 61, 229, an insignia of an Order of Knighthood. Starr'd, 79, starred Staukin, 59, stalking. Staw, 59, stole. I Steer, 82, stir, molest. ' A sten, 5i8, a jump. Sterte up, 250. started up. Stewart, H. D'A., 204, 205. Stibble, ';6, stubble. Stibble-fieid, 78, stubble- field. Stoure, 57, hardship ; 77, dust. Stowey, Somerset, 268. Stown, 162, stolen. Stoyte, 81, reel. Strack, 121, struck. Strait, 232, 2.^9, straight, at once, immediately. Strappan',69, tall, strapping. Straugbt, 65, straight. Stream'd, 73, stre-amed Strepbon (Anon.), 49, 104, lo-;. Strepbon (\V. Blake), 147. Strewin, 55, strewing. Strewn, 261, levelled, spread out Striv'n, 79, striven. Sue, Susan (Anon.), 115. Suff' rings, 160, sufferings. Sugar'd, 122, sugared. Sugb, 67, sighing. Supple, 40, yielding, com- pliant. Sure, 83, surely. Susan (W. Blake), 147. Susan (R. Burns). 64. I'oor SusEin (W. Wordsworth, P.L.), 181. Swift- wlng'd, 68, swift - winged. Swound, 257, a swoon or fainting fit. Sylvia (Rev. J. Wolcot), 131, '34- Sylvio (Rt. Hon. R. B. B. Sheridan), 98. Syne, 74, after. T, .55, 63, 81, 138, 143, 154, it. T', 20, to. T., J., 21. Ta'en, 69, 221, taken. Tak, 76, Tak', 86, 119, take. Talk'd, 156, talked. Tammy [=> Tommy] (H. MacneillX nS. 119, Thomas. Glossary and Index. Tapsalteerie, 53, topsy- turvy. Tarn, 280, a small mountain lake or pool. Tars, 91, sailors. Tauld, 121, told. Tauntin', 220, taunting. Teach, 266, tell. Tellin', 220, tellinp. Temperance (R. Lovell), 189, Tend, 121, attend. The tender tale, 69, their love. Tent, 74, 220, take heed. Tent my tellin', 220, listen to me. Tent thee, 82, puard thee. Tentie, 6;, heedful. Th', 64, 67, 234, 240, 286, 293, the. The gither, 88, together. Themsels, 82, themselves. They'll, 82, 97, 121, 199, they will. They'll few, 121, few will. They're, 81, 85, 117, &c., they are. Thick and thin, 3, whatever is in the way. Tho', 53, 56, 57, 62, 63, 66, 74, &c., though. Thole, 56, suffer, endure. Thompson, W., 44. Thorough, 244, through. Thou thought {ScoicA\ 55, thoughtest. Thou'll, 59, thou wilt. Thou'lt,"i54, thou wilt. Thou'rt,82, 132, 134, thou art. Tho w less, 121, sluggish, in- active (of mind) ; heedless. Thrang, 156, throng. Thrave, 55, twenty-four sheaves of grain. Threats, 149, threatens. A threesome reel, 156, a reel in which three take part together. Thretty, 121, thirty. Thro', 57, 1:0, 219, through. Throclimorton, J., 31. Throstle, 180, the song- thrush. Thy lane, 56, thyself alone. Tickl'd, 70, tickled. Tightlie, 220, tightly. TiB, 64, to. Tine, 110, Tyne, 123, lose. Tiney, 24, 25, one of Cowper's tame hares. Tint his gate, 121, lost his way. Tintem Abbey, 172. 'Tis, 43, 48, 52, 93, 95, &c., it is. Dear Tittie, 58, 59, Sister. The Toast, 57, Beauty, Belle. Tocher, 85, 121, dowry, mar- riage portion. Toddlan [= toddling], 67, tottering. Tom (Anon.), 160. Tom, Thomas (W. Blake), 148, 149. Tom (W. Hayley), 14.8, 149. Topers, 137, hard drinkers. T'other, 48, 209, 283, the other. Tourney Court, 286, a Court for the display of skill in arras, a tournament. To Town, 12, London. A towmond, 70, 81, a twelve- month. Townshend, Marquis Townshend; G., 161. Train, 66, company; 112, followers. Train-Band, i, the Militia. Tricks, 283, adorns, dresses. Trig, 120, neat, handsome. Such a trim, 8, state, cond.- tion. Trip the spring, 220, dance a reel Tripp'st, 189, trippest Tritons, 215, sea-deities. Trudged, 156, trudged. True, 118, 199, trow. True Love (Hon. W. R. Spencer), 206, 207. Truth (Hon. W. R. Spencer), 206. Try'd, 54, tried. Tryermaine, 285, 288, 289. Tryste, 87, rendezvous. The trysted, 57, the ap- pointed. Tuck, Friar, 47. Tunefu', 80, tuneful. Turn'd, 156, turned. Turnpike Gates, 11, toll- gates. Turnpike-men, 6, the men who collect the tolls. Twa, 76, 77, 120, 121, two. 'Twas, 32, 48, 70, &c., it was. 'Twere, 48, 53, 89, &c., it were. 'Twill, 164, it will. Twitt'ring, igi, twittering. 'Twixt, 48, betwixt. Unaware, 253, without pre- vious thought. The uncos, 68, the news. Unfeign'd, 68, unfeigned. Unnotic'd, 68, unnoticed. Unpractis'd, 123, unprac- tised. Unweeting, 240, unwitting, ignorant. Unwin, M., 13, 37-39. He up, 86, went up. Upo', 199, upon. Uprist, 245, uprose. Upton, W., 203. Us'd, 154, used. Utter, 247, 248, extreme. This melancholy Vale, 6g, human life. The Valentines' dealing, 58, the drawing on the eve of the 14th of February, by young people, for lo\ ers or valen- tines. Vatix, Lord Roland de (S. T. Coleridge), 284, 285. 288-290, 295. Venus, 42, 44, 109, 112, 114, 206, 226, 240. Vespers nine, 244, nine even- ings. Vi'let, 42, violet. Virtue (R. Lovell), 189. Vot'ry, 109, votary. Vow'd, 86, 87, vowed. Wa', 65, 121, walL 'Wa, 120, away. Wad, 54, 57, 02, 63, 82, &c., would. Wa'd, 121, would. Wae [= woe], 63, 121, 123, woeful. Waefu', 163, woeful. Waes, lig, woes, misfor- tunes. Wales, 70, chooses. Wallace, Sir W., 73, 84. Walth, 119, wealth, plenty. Wan, 157, won. Wander' d, 121, wandered. Wand'ring, 33, wandering. Wanton, 105, trifler. Wantons, 59, moves nimbly from one twig to another. Warden Pie, 47, a pie made of warden pears. Wardman, 194. a guard. Ware, Hertfordshire, 8, 9. Warl', 54, Warld, 61, 63, world. Warldings, 123, world- lings. Warld's, 163, 219, world's. 311 Glossary and Index. A Warlock, 87, a wizard. Warly, 5,^, worldly. I warrant you I 150, 1 assure W'ou! arst, 81, worst. Wnr't, 1 19, WRre it. Warton, B.D., P.L. ; Rev. T., 40. Wa's, 55, 78, walls. The Wash of Edmonton, 7, wheie a pool, or brook, had filled the roadway. Wast, 55, waste. Wat'ry,"30, 165, 230, watery. Wauent, 77, drink. Waukin, 59, waking, watch- ing. Waur, 86, 157, 22J, worse. Way-sore, 184, footsore. Weaken'd, 8^, weakened. Weal, 248, good. We are Seven, 166-168. Wearin', 217, wearing. Wee, <;4, 63, 1 18, &c/little. Wee bit, 55, 56, 67, Wee bit, 1";^, 162, i6i, tiny. Weel, 62, 6q,'&c., well. Weel-favour'd, 64, well- favoured. Weelfeatur'd, 64, good looking. Weel-hain'd, 70, well- hoarded. Weel-mounted, 64, well- mountffl. Weel pleas'd, 68, 69, well- pleased. Weel-stockit, 85, well- stocked. Weel-tappithen, 222, a well- crested hen. Weel-tocher'd, 64, well- dowered. Ween, 66, 282, 285, 287, imagine. Weet, 78, 156, wet. Wee things, 67, little ones. We'll, 50, 6s, 76. 77. 88, 119, 120, we will. Welladay! [= wellaway], 247, 278, alas ! woe ! We're, 115, we are. We've, 51, 76, 88, 105, &c., we have. Wha, 57, 58, 61, 63, 68, 81, 84, itc, who. Wha'll, 219, 220, who will. Whan, 162, when. Whar, Whare, 62, 118, 121, fiC, where. Whase, 57, Wha's, 157, whose. Whate'er, 38, whatever. Wheel, 106, 156, a spinning- wheel. Whelm, 79, overwhelm, en- gulf 'Whelming, 217, ovcr«'helm- ing. Whene'er, 41, 48, 74, 81, &c., whenever. Whiles, 244, while. Whimsies, 14, fancies. Who'd, 208, who would. Whoe'er, 105, whoever. WhyJes, 55, 74, 81, &c., sometimes. Wi', 54-56, 58, 59, 63, 67-69, &c., with. Wield, III. handle. Wifie (ScoieJi), 67, 70, wife. Wildered, 277, bewildered. Wild-fire, 196, Ignis/atuus, Wiilo'-the-wisp. Wilding, 192, wild. Will I, 58, shall!. William (C Smart), 42. William (W. Wordsworth, P.L.\ 178, 179. I can win, 63, earn. Winander, 165, Lake Win- dermere, Westmorland. Windermere, 282. Win's, 55, winds. Wi 's, 78, with his. The wisest man, 54, King Solomon. Wish'd, 57, wished. I wist, 247, 248, knew. Witch's Lair, 282. A Witch's oils, 247, pre- parations thrown into the fire by witches to produce flames of various colours. With a', 64, withal. Witlings, 43, little wits, pre- tenders to wit. Wolcot, Rev. J., 126-137. Wond'ring, 7, -'96, wonder- ing. Won't, 115, 126, 127, will not. Wood Street, London, 181. Wordsworth, P.L.; W., 165-183. Woty, W., 114. The woven willowa, 219, the creel, &c. Wrang, 82, wrong. Wrench'd, 79, wrenched. Wye, the river, i 72-177. Wyle, 74, wile, beguile. Ye'd, 121, yon would. Ye'll, 62, ye will. Ye're, 54, 220, ye are. Ye're, 220, your. Ye'se, 1 19, you shall. Yestreen [= yester evening], 57, 58, 122, last night. Yett, 221, gate. Yewes, 85, ewes. j Yon, 57, yonder one. Yon, 62, yonder. 'Yont, 70, beyond. You'll, 52, 97, 179, you will. Youngling, 72, young, youth- ful The younkers, 68, the young ones. You're, 115, you are. Youthfa',67, youthful. You've, 208, you have. Zion, 70, Jerusalem. 312 INDEX OF FIRST LINES. VOLS. I— X. PAGE AbandofCupids,th' other day viii. 137 A Bard, grown desirous of... viii. 229 A beauteous face, fine shape ... vii. 287 A blithe and bonny Country Lass ill. 271 A bony 'No!' with smyling iii. 172 A Book, a Friend, a Song, a Glass X. 44 About the sweet bag of a bee ... vi. no Accurst be Love ; and they that iv. 89 A Cobbler there was, and he...viii. 222 A day, a night, an hour, of sweet 1 1 1. 2 89 A decent mien, an elegance of Vlii. 207 Adieu V. 74 Adieu, fond Love ! Farewell, you v, 67 Adieu ! for a while, to the town ix. 146 A dooly season to a careful Dyte 1. 156 A face that should content me ... il. 25 A faithful friend would I fain find 1. 182 A famous Assembly was viix. 132 After many scorns like these v. 12 After so many concurring vi. 30 Age (Beauty's tyrant !), why dost v. 254 A Grecian Youth, of talents rare IX. 150 Ah! Ben! v. 271 Ah ! blame me not, if no despair vir. 200 Ah ! Celia ! why so fiercely bent vii. 2 1 9 Ah! Cloris! that I now could sit vil. 232 Ah! cruel Beauty! could you... vil. 295 A headpiece made of Prudence vi. 190 Ah! fading Joy! howqnicklyart vil. 29 ' Ah ! gaze not on those eyes ! Vlli. 277 Ah ! how sweet it is to love !... vil. 35 PAGE Ah! me! v. 72 Ah! me! the little tyrant thief ! vi. 90 Ah! my sweet Sweeting ! 11.286 * Ah! ope, Lord Gregory! thy... X. 135 Ah! tell me no more, my dear Girl! x. 133 Ah! what happy days and nights VII. 270 Ah! what is Love? It is a iii. 254 ' Ah ! who, in all those happy viil. 300 A kiss I begged : but, smiling... vi. 187 Alack ! Alack! What shall I do 1 li. 106 Alas ! Madam I for stealing of a II. i Alas! my heart! mine eye hath in. 230 Alas! my Love ! ye do me ill. 178 Alas ! what shall I do for love? Ii. 109 Alas ! why mad'st then such a. . . vii. 188 Alexis ! VII. 278 Alexis! here. She stayed ! iv. 290 Alexis shunned his fellow viil. 74 A little child, a limber Elf x. 294 A little saint best fits a little ... vi. 134 All in the Downs the Fleet was viii. 160 All men, they do wish unto II. 128 All my Past Life is mine no ... vii. 123 All Noblemen ! of this take heed II. 160 All that glisters is not gold IV. 5 All thoughts, all passions, all ... x. 334 All ye woods, and trees, and .,. IV. 212 Almenon had a sort of merit ! vill. 292 Alone, by a lonely willow viil. 273 A Lover I am ; and a Lover I'll vi. 83 Altho' thou maun never be mine... x. 75 Index of First Lines, Vols. I — X. PAGE Although I had a check il. 86 A Maid me loved. Her love I... V. loi A man, of late, was put to death iv. i8o A man that should of Truth tell... I. 191 Amarantha, sweet and fair ! ... VI. 89 Am I despised 1 because you say VI. 144 Amidst November, that month... II. 268 A milk-white hair-lace wound... VI. 192 Am I mad? O, noble Festus! ... v. 153 Amo, amas X. 46 Among the myrtles, as I walked vi. 1 36 Among thy fancies, tell me this ! vi. 1 44 Amyntas ! whilst you VIi. 158 And are ye sure, the news is true? IX. 234 And did you not hear of a jolly IX. 296 And does then the Ocean possess x. 148 And, hey ! then up go we ! ... vi. 44-47 And if that [an] Eye may save, or II. 1 7 And now all Nature seemed in... V. 128 And now, what Monarch would VL 206 And think ye, Nymphs I to scorn III. 381 And when they came to merry ... I. 91 And wilt thou leave me thus? ... II. 11 And would you see my Mistress* IV. 231 ' And ye shall walk in silk attire X. 157 A new-found Match is made of IV. 172 Anger, in hasty words or blows vi. 58 A Nosegay lacking flowers fresh III. 173 Apollo sings! his harp resounds I vi. 133 Approach in silence ! 'Tisno... ix. 257 April is in my Mistress' face ... iv. 287 A Quire of bright Beauties, in vii. 20 Are Women fair T I wondrous ... iv. 141 A Riddle by Cowper X. ai Arm! Arm! Arm! Arm! The... V. 65 Art thou gone in haste? v. 103 Art thou poor ; yet hast thou ... iv. 1 89 As, after noon, one summer's. . . VIII. 79 As Amoret with Phillis sat vil. 67 As Chloe on flowers reclined... Vill. 253 A Scholar first my love implored IX. 165 As Diane hunted on a day IV. 43 A Sessions was held, the other... v. 287 PAGE As free as wanton winds I lived Vll. 320 As I came through Glendochart X. i6j As I, in hoary winter's night ... IV. 65 A silly Shepherd wooed; but vill. 133 Asimplechildjdear brother Jim! X. 166 As inward love breeds outward VI. 188 As it befel in Midsummer time... li. 90 As it fell on a holy day II. 204 As it fell upon a day iv. 19 As I was passing in a morning. III. 194 As I was sitting on the grass... vil. 103 k% I went through the North ... V. 263 Ask me no more, Where Jove... V. 311 Ask me, Why I send you here... vr. 128 Ask not the cause, why sullen... vil. 10 As late each flower that sweetest X. 240 ' As long liveth the merry man' ill. 48 As Nature and Garrick were ... IX. 181 As often as I consider these old li. 112 A Soldier am I, the world over I X. 226 As pilot well expert in perilous III. 3 Asses' milk, half a pint, take at IX. 73 As the inamoured Thirsis lay... VII. 293 As they sat in Inglewood I. 97 A sweet disorder in the dress ... vi. 115 As years do grow, so cares ill. 115 As you came from the holy land iv. 147 As youthful Day put on his best VI. 298 As you went to Walsingham — see As you came from the holy land At Beauty's Bar as I did stand. . . ili. 1 30 A Templar (who loves yon, dear ix. 220 At her fair hands, how have I... iv. 128 At liberty I sit, and see ill. 133 At night, by moonlight, on the viii. 220 A trifling Song you shall hear viil. 64 At Stool Ball, Lucia, let us play vi. 217 At St. Osyth's, near the Mill... VIIl. 291 Attend, all ye Nymphs and ye... IX. 137 At the corner of Wood Street ... x. 181 At Upton on the Hill ix. 258 Aurora now began to rise again III. 158 Avenge.OjLord! thy slaughtered VI. 33 Index of First Lines, Vols. I X. PAGE Awake, ^olian Lyre! awake... IX. 93 Awake! Awake! my lyre! VI. 253 Awake! Awake I thou heavy... IV. 234 Awake, thou spring of speaking iv, 245 Awake, ye drowsy Swains ! IX. 38 A wanton Bee, of ancient fame vill. 201 Awa' wi' your witchcraft o' X. 85 Away, delights ! Go, seek some IV. 210 Away, Despair! the death of... III. 167 Away, fond thing I Tempt me... vi. 222 Away ! Let nought to Love... VIII. 208 Away to the brook ! vil. 60 Away with these self- loving lads iii. 224 A worthy Matron of unspotted... vi. 196 A wretch, long tortured with... VIII. lai Back and side go bare ! go bare! ill. 135 Beat on, proud billows ! Boreas vi. 68 Beauty and Love once fell at ... vi. 40 Beauty, being long a resident ... IV. 228 Because I breathe not love to... III. 209 Before my face the picture hangs iv. 60 Before the urchin well could go ix. 126 Be gone ! Be gone, thou perjured vi, 194 Begone, dull Care I I prithee, be Vll. 189 Begone, old Care ! and I prithee vil. 189 Begone, old Care I I prithee, be vii, 189 Behind her neck her comely... viii. 86 Behold, a silly tender Babe iv. 64 Behold, Love! thy power how She II. 15 Behold! my brave Britons, the ix. 135 Behold, my Fair ! where'er we... IX. 115 Behold, my friend ! the vill. 215 Be it right or wrong, these Men... I. 184 Belinda! see, from yonder ... viii. 95 Beneath a myrtle's verdant ... viil. 68 Beneath some hoary mountain Vlll. 45 Between two Suitors, sat a Lady VI. 81 Betwixt mine Eye and Heart, a iv. 4 Biaachal let VI. 117 Bid me to live! and I will live vi. 127 PAGE Black Eyes! in your dark orbs... VI. 265 Blame not my cheeks, though... iv. 243 Blame not thy Lute ! for he must II. 36 Blessed as th' immortal Gods is viii. 105 Blest pair of Sirens ! pledges of v. 134 Blow, blow, thou winter wind ! iv. 15 'Blowhigh! blow low! let tempest X. 90 Blown in the morning, thou vi. 99 Boasting FopSjwho court the... vn. 225 Brave flowers! that I could vi. 98 B. told me, 'That the Bay would III. 108 But anxious cares the pensive viil. 23 But are you sure, the news is true ? ix. 234 But now would I hear thee express II. 352 'But tell me, tell me! speakagain X. 258 But warily tent, when ye come to x. 74 But, why V. 72 By a bank, as I lay II. 296 By a forest as I gan fare i. 142 By a prattling stream, on a X. 42 By these presents, be it kno¥ra. . . IX. 154 Caelia! thy bright Angel's face vi. 195 Call for the robin redbreast, and iv. 275 Canst thou love me; and yet ... V. 117 Caput apri defero II. 130 Care ! Care ! go, pack! thou art VL 213 Care ! thou canker of our joys !... X. 151 Cast not in Chloe's name among v. 246 Cast our caps and cares awayl... v. 64 Cease, anxious World! your... vil. 138 Cease, cease, Aminta! to vil. 161 Cease, fair Calistris ! cease... vill. 51 Cease, fond Shepherd ! Cease vin. 145 Cease to blame my melancholy ! X. 159 Cease your funning ! viii. 171 Cease your music, gentle viil. 107 Celia and I, the other day ... vill. 82 ' Change thy mind ! since She... iv. 84 Charis ! guess, and do not miss ! V. 16 Chans , one day, in discourse v. 18 Index of First LineSy Vols, I — X. PAGE Charles, at this time, having no vii. io8 Charm me asleep! and melt me vi. ii6 Chaucer is dead ; andGower... IV. 32 Check thy forward thoughts 1 and v. 199 Cheer up, my males ! The wind VI. 258 * Cherry ripe ! ripe ! ripe ! ' I cry VI. 1 50 Child ! with many a childish wile x. 193 Chloe, coquet and debonair IX. 105 Chloe found Amyntas lying vil. 27 Chloe ! no more must we be X. 132 Chloe! why wish you, That your v. 244 Chloris, farewell ! I now must... vi. 66 Chloris I now thou art fled away vi. 279 Chloris! yourself you so excel... vi. 60 Choose me your Valentine ! vi. 142 Christ, Christian King ! • (that on I. 1 26 Circles are praised, not that ... Vll. 154 Clara, charming without art ... vil. 202 Cleon! ifyou would have me... vii. 65 Clora, come view my Soul ! ... vii. 97 Cloris! I cannot say, your Eyes vil. 245 Close by those meads for ever vill. 16 Cceliajealous, lest Idid v. 98 Cold 's the wind, and wet 's the iv. 190 Cold was the night-wind, drifting x. 184 Colin! I see, by thy new-taken in. 282 Come, all ye jolly Sailors bold... X. 50 Come away, come away, death ! iv. 15 Come away I come, sweet Love ! IV. 224 Come, buy my ware ! Come, buy ! X. 200 Come, cheer up, my Lads! 'tis to IX. 186 Come, come, my good IX. 187 Come, follow, follow me ! vi. 218 Come, gentle Death I Who ili. 164 Come.gentleGodofsoftdesirel viii. 283 Come, heavy souls, oppressed... v. 241 Come here, fond Youth! whoe'er IX. 274 « Come hither, gently rowing ! ... X. 239 Come hither, Shepherd Swain! III. 297 Come hither, the merriest of all v. 162 Come, ifyou dare ; our trumpets Vli. 26 Come, Lasses and Lads ! vi. 286 Come, let us now resolve at last VIII. 131 316 PAGE Come, listen to my mournful ... ix. 40 Come, live with me, and be my IV. 134 Come, my Celia, let us prove ... iv. 219 Come, noble Nymphs! and do not V. 2 Come, O, come, my life's iv. 251 Come over the bom, Bessie! ... III. 66 Come, prithee, leave the Courts VII. 284 Come, Shepherds ! ccme I IV. 209 Come, Shepherd Swains ! that... IV. 81 Come, Sleep I O, Sleep, the ill. 205 Come, spur away! V. 230 ' Come, take up your hats ; and ... X. 2 34 ' Come under my plaidy! the night X. 120 Come unto these yellow sands... IV. 13 Come, worthy Greek ! Ulysses ! IV. 95 Come, you pretty false-eyed iv. 246 Come you whose Loves are ... IV. 208 Comforts lasting ! Loves V. 166 Conceit, begotten by the eyes... IV. 150 Consider, dear Daughter ! what IX. 259 Contented wi' little, and canty wi' x. 81 Coridon ! arise, my Coridon !... iv. 137 Corinna, in the bloom of youth vii. 217 Courage, my Soul ! now learn to vii. 86 Creator Spirit 1 by whose aid. . . vil. 30 Cull to me the rushes green ! II. 297 Cupid and Fortune long agreed vill. 258 Cupid and my Campaspe played III. 198 Cupid and Venus jointly strove viil. 251 ' Cupid ! instruct an am'rous... viii. 54 Cupid! I scorn to beg the art. . . vll. 41 Cupid, pardon what is past IV. 207 Cupid 's dead ! Who would not v. 201 Cursed be the wretch that's... vili. 272 Damon ! I cannot blame your vii. 160 'Damon ! let a friend advise ye ! Vll. 268 Damon ! why will yon die for vil. 224 Daphne, the beautiful and coy viii. 157 Daphnis stood pensive in the vill. 164 DaughterswcetofVoiceand Air! ix. 76 Index of First Lines, Vols. I~X. PAGE Daughter to that good Earl vi. 2 Dazzled thus with height of. iv. 300 Dear Batchelour! I've read your ix. 224 Dear Betty! come, give me... viii. 388 Dear Chloe ! what means this... ix. 160 Dear Chloe! while the busy crowd ix. 122 Dear Chloe! while thus, beyond ix. 162 Dear Colin! prevent my warm viii. 142 Dear Doctor of St. Mary's viii. 289 Dearest in friendship, if you'll... vi. 154 Dear Gray ! that always in my viii. 286 Dear is my little native vale ! ... x. 108 Dear! leave thy home ; and come v. 115 Dear Love, let me this evening vi. 227 Delia! how long must I despair viir. 240 Despairing, beside a clear viii. 125 Dew sat on Julia's hair vi. 146 Diaphenia, like the iv. 117 Did ever Swain, a Nymph adore vili. 242 'Did onr sighing Lovers know viii. 220 Did you see e'er a Shepherd, ye X. 104 Disarmed with so genteel an Air viii. 109 Discard that frown upon your ... X. 45 Disdain me still ! that I may ever v. 116 Distance of place, my Love and IV. 40 Distracted with care Vlll. 52 Divine Destroyer 1 pity me no... vi. 95 Do not mine affection slight vi. 245 Do not unjustly blame vi. 245 Dorinda's sparkling witand eyes vii. 44 Dost see, how unregarded now... V. 280 Dost thou, my friend ! desire to vill. 296 Down, down a thousand fathoms X. 214 Down the valley gan he track... m. 242 Down with the Rosemary and... vi. 135 Dried be that tear, my gentlest... X. 98 Drink, to-day; and drown all... v. 63 Drink to me, only with thine ... iv. 219 Each beast can choose bis fere... II. 65 « Each Matin bell,' the Baron saith X. 28a PAGE Early one morn, a jolly brisk Tar ix. 271 Earth has not any thing to show x. 169 Erst, in Cythera's sacred shade ix. 232 Eternal Time, that wasteth iv. 170 Even as the timely sweet IV. 270 Even such is Time ! which takes v, 34 Everyman take his Glass in his viii. 228 Every thing of my coming is 11. 206 Eyes, hide my love ! and do not IV. loi Faction, that ever dwells in iii. 395 Fain would I ; but I dare not!... iv. 154 Fain would I change that note IV. 1 30 Fain would I, Chloris ! ere I die vi. 205 Fain would I love ; but that I... vi. 276 Faint Amorist I What! dost... in. 319 Fair Amoret is gone astray!... viii. 60 Fair, and soft, and gay, and ... vil. 201 Fair Archabella ! to thy eyes... vii. 149 Fair as unshaded Light ; or as the v. 147 Fair Corinna! Tell me why... vii. 288 Fairdaffadils! we weep to see... vi. 138 Fairest Isle, all isles excelling... vii. 22 Fairest of thy Sex, and best ... vii. 293 Fairest! when thine eyes did ... VI. 73 Fairfax,the Valiant! and the... Vli. 69 Fair Fidelia, leave me now! ... vi. 104 Fair Hebe I left, with a cautious IX. 236 Fair Iris ! all our time is spent vii. 139 Fair Iris and her Swain VII. 4 Fair Iris I love, and hourly I... vil. 5 Fair Lady! leave parade and ... X. 153 Fair Nymphs! sit ye here by me IV. 185 Fair pledges of a fruitful tree ! . . . vi. 1 1 3 Fair Sally loved a bonny Sailor vill. 254 Fair, sweet, and young, receive vii. 24 Fair Venus ! whose delightful VIII. 248 Fair Virtue ! should I follow... vil. 134 False though She be to me and VIII. 57 False World ! thou li'st ! Thou V. 159 Fame's Pillar here, at last, we... vi, 153 317 Index of First Lines, Vols. I — X. PAGE Farewell v. 73 Farewell, dear Love ! since thou iv. 131 Farewell, false Love! theOracle III. 269 Farewell, my Mistress! I'll be viil. 130 Farewell, my Saint ! Let not the v, 191 Farewell! O, farewell to the day X. 136 ' Farewell, rewards and Fairies ! ' v. 150 Farewell, sweet Boy ! Complain iii. 226 Farewell.thoubnsy World! and Vll. 56 Farewell, ye gilded follies I Vii. 34 Far in the country of Arden IV. 353 Far in the windings of a vale ... ix. 142 Fear no more the heat o' th' sun iv. 7 Feed on, my flocks, securely I ... iv. 1 16 Fervid on the glitt'ring flood ... IX. 204 Fiel on the sleights that men... iv. 118 Fie ! Sylvia ! why so gravely look X. 1 34 Fill me a mighty bowl V. 270 Fine young Folly ! though you vi. 24 'Fire, Water, Woman, are ... viil. 75 First, April ; she, with mellow... vi. 107 Five years have passed ! five ... X. 172 Flavia, the least and slightest... vil. 207 Fletcher! though some call it thy v. 247 Florella I when those eyes I see viii. 96 Fly from false Man ! Dorinda viii. 149 Follow a shadow, it still flies... iv. 221 Follow thy fair Sun, unhappy... iv. 240 Follow your Saint ! Follow i v. 3 50 Fond feigning Poets make of... iii. 263 * Foolish Love! begone!' said viii. 239 Fools! They are the only nation I v. 320 For Age is a Page II. 161 For auld lang syne, my jo ! X. 76 For England, when, with fav'ring X. 99 Forever, Forttme! wiltthou... viii. 280 Forget not yet the tried intent ... 11. 16 For Love's sake, kiss me once ... v. 17 For my pastime, upon a day ... 11. 397 Fortune, Nature, Love, long ... iii. 207 Fortune! O, mighty and variable II. 113 For various purpose serves the. . . x. 49 * Frae great Apollo, Foetsaj... VIII. 183 3X8 PAGE Fresh Beauty, rich of youth and . I. 1 20 Friend Googe ! Give me the... ill. 1 14 Friend of my heart! by fav'ring IX. 270 Fromalluneasy Passions free... vii. 251 From Cytheron, the warlike Boy in. 300 From Lincoln to London rode... IX. 39 From morinng till night, and ... X. 150 From Oberon, in Fairy Land v. 54 From place to place forlorn I go viii. 63 From rosy bowers, where sleeps vil. 275 From the Court, to the Cottage viii. 276 From the fair Lavinian shore... VI. 243 From Tuscan came my Lady's... II. 54 From Wars and Plagues, come vii. 250 From White's and Will's viii. 108 Full fathom five thy father lies ! iv. i Fyl flattering ForUinel look ... il. 125 Gather ye rosebuds, while ye ... vi. iii Gay Bacchus, liking Estcourt's Vlll. 116 Gay Damon long studied, my... IX. 252 Genius of England ! from thy... vi 1.266 ' Genteel is my Damon, engaging IX. 169 'Gentle Love! this hour viii. 128 Gentlest air, the breath of. viii. 94 Gently, my Lute! move ev'ry viil. 214 Get you gone ! You will undo vii. 247 Give Beauty all her right I ...... iv. 233 Give me a cell vi. 124 Give me a Lass with a lump of viii. 181 Give me leave to rail at you !... vii. 120 Give me more love, or more v. 216 Give me my scallop-shell of. IV. 159 Give me one kiss vi. 147 GiveMoneyme! take Friendship III. loi Give place , ye Lovers I here before II. 80 Give place, you Ladies ! and be III. 53 Glories, Pleasures, Pomps v. 167 Go bet, Penny! go bet, go! i. 79 Go, burning sighs ! unto the frozen II. 14 God above, that made all things vi. 381 Index of First Lines, Vols. /— X PAGE God be with Truth, where he be ! 1. 191 God bless the King! Imeanthe viii. 103 God gives not Kings the style of IV. 191 God Lysens, ever young ! v. 63 God prosper long our noble I. 68 God save great George our ... viil. 274 God save our Lord the King. . . viii. 275 Go, empty joys vi. 26 Go, happy heart ! for thou shalt v. 64 Go, happy Rose ! and, interwove VI. 1 30 Gold upon gold, my only Joy... IV. 94 Go, little book ! with rudeness .. . I. 216 Go, lovely rose ! VI. 51 Go, my flock ! Go, get you III. 2 1 6 Good ag^d Bale ! that, with thy III. 97 Good folk! for gold, or hire v. 42 Good, good indeed! The herb 's Vll. 146 Good Housewives, whom God ill. 128 Good Ladies ! ye that have your II. 84 GoodMadam! whenLadiesare vill. 143 ' Good morrow to the day so fair ! vi. 1 32 Good Muse ! rock me asleep ... IV. 77 Good people all, of every sort. . . IX. 8 Good speed ! For I, this day ... vi. 120 Go, perjured Maid! to all vii. 103 Go, perjured man ! and if thou vi. 129 ' Go, rose, my Chloe's bosom viil. 159 Go, Soul, the Body's guest iv. 156 Go, tell Amynta, gentle Swain ! vii. 22 Go then, and join the roaring X. 1 64 Go, thou gentle whispering Wind! V. 212 Go, wailing Verse ! the infant of ill. 290 * Grant me, gentle Love,' said I viii. 59 Grant me, indulgent Heaven! a vil. 281 Great Monarch of the World !... vi. 169 Green grow the rashes, O ! X. 53 Grieve not, dear Love! VI. 197 Guardian Angels ! now protect IX. 52 Had I aheart for falsehood framed X. 97 Had I loved but at the rate V. 118 PACK Had we but world enough, and vii. 92 Hail ! beauteous stranger of the IX. 254 Hail, sacred Solitude ! From vii.132 Hang up those dull and envious v. 8 Happy and free, securely blest... vii. 28 Happy he iv. 102 Happy the man ! whose wish. . . vill. 2 Happy, those early days! when vi. 180 Hard is the fate of him who... viii. 281 Hark ! Hark ! The lark at IV. 9 Hark 1 how the birds do sing ... v. 180 Hark! how the Duke of Lorraine vil, 204 Hark, how the Passing Bell vi. 211 HarkI jolly Shepherds! iv. 286 Hark ! Now everything is still ! ... v. 102 Hast thou seen the down in the... v. 291 Having, this day, my horse, my ill. 209 Haymakers ! Rakers ! Reapers ! v. 168 Hay! now the day dauis ! III. 169 Health is the first good lent to... VI. 124 Health to my fair Odelia ! Some v, 192 Hear me, O, God ! v. 30 ' Hears not, my Phillis! howthe vii. 231 Heart's-ease, a herb that vi. 200 Hear, ye Ladies that despise v. 61 Hear, ye Virgins ! and I'll teach vi. 143 Heaven, and Earth, and all that II. 27 Help me to seek ! for I lost it there II. 14 Hence, all you vain Delights !... V. 66 Hence, away! You, Sirens! V. 68 Hence, loathed Melancholy! ... VI. JO Hence, vain deluding Joys ! vi. 15 Henrietta's serious charms ix. 153 He, or She, that hopes to gain... v. 256 Here, a sheer hulk, lies poor Tom X. 91 Here, Cupid puffed, and strung viil. 200 Here, here, I live ! vi. 109 'Here, in cool grot and mossy... IX. 45 Here lies a great and mighty... VIT. 108 Here lies Jonson with the rest... VI. 130 Here lies the Lyric, who, with vill. 209 Here lies, whom hound did ne'er X. 24 Here'saHealthtoanello'edear! X. 75 3^9 Index of First Lines, Vols. I — X. PAGE Here's a Health to the Queen vill. 37 Here 's a Health unto his vi. 395 Here 's to the Maiden of blushing X. 96 Her eyes, the glowworm lend... VI. 141 Her face, her tongue, her wit, so iv. 151 Her fair inflaming Eyes IV. 242 Her hair was curls of Pleasure... VI. 191 Her hair with Lover's Hopes... VI. 190 Her loved I most ! v. 43 Her sheep had in clusters crept ix. 207 He's gone the bright way that vii. 286 He that is do\vn, needs fear no Vll. 54 He that is weary, let him sit 1 ... V. 170 He that loves a rosy Cheek v. 221 ' Hey, down-a-down ! * did Dian IV. 136 Hicjacet John Shorthose VI. 288 Hide, O, hide those hills of. IV. 16 'High is the Tower, and the X. 193 High State and honours to vil. 23 His golden locks, time hath to . ill. 183 'Ho! brother Teague! dost hear Vll. 190 Holly stands in the Hall, fair to 1. 145 Honest Lover whosoever v. 276 Hopeless, and helpless too, poor iii, 163 Hopeless, I languish out my... vil. 137 Hope, thou Nurse of young IX. 159 How blessed has my time been ! IX. 131 How blest with thee, the path ... x. 164 How blyth, ilk mom, was I to vill. 194 How brimful of Nothing 's the viii. 265 How changed is my Celadon's... X. 128 How easy was Colin, how blithe IX. 129 How firmly fixed, I thought my VIII. 226 How fresh does the morning ... IX. 246 How fresh, O, Lord! how sweet V. 174 How, Gossip mine ! Gossip mine 1 1. 108 How happy a state does the... vill. 297 How happy could I be with... vill. 170 How happy is he bom and iv. 299 How happy the Loverl Vil. ii How hardly I concealed my ... Vll. 359 How I do love thee, Beaumont iv. 314 How ill doth he deserve a Lover's v. 2 18 320 PAGE How little do the land-men know ix. 190 How long, with vain complaining III. 160 How! 'Mortalhate!' Forwhat vii. 287 How pleasant a Sailor's life ... IX. 393 How sacred and how innocent vi. 370 How should I, your True Love iv. 9 How sleep the Brave, who sink to IX. 58 How stands the Glass around ?. . . IX. 50 How sweet I roamed from field to X. 140 How sweet is Love's first gentle X. 217 HowsweetistheShepherd'ssweet X. 147 'How sweetly smells the viii. 182 How vainly men themselves ... VII. 83 How welcome, my Shepherd !... IX. 242 How wisely Nature did decree vii. 94 How you oblige me, scornful... Vii. 3o8 am a Batchelor winsome K. 333 am a Friar of Orders Gray X. 47 am an Englishman ; and naked I II. 384 am, in truth, a Country Youth vill. 369 am just two and two ! I am ... X. 20 am Monarch of all I survey !... X. 3i :anthe the lovely, the joy of her VIII. 55 ask thee, "Whence those ashes. . . V. 3 10 beheld her on a day v. 11 can love, and love entirely v. 99 cannot change, as others do... vii. I2i cannot eat but little meat ; my III. 135 chanced, of late, an ancient... IV. 383 charge thee, by those eyes of... VI. 316 could but see thee yesterday... VI. 147 could never have the power ... IV. 3o8 dare not ask a kiss 1 VI. 130 did but look and love awhile vn. 1 70 die! V. 74 do confess, thou'rt smooth and V. 114 dwell in Grace's Court IV. 56 f all the World and Love were IV. 135 Ifaughtofoaten stop, or Pastoral IX. 56 Ifdoughty deeds my Lady please ix. 364 Index of First Lines, Vols. I — X. PAGE 'I fear thee, Ancient Mariner !... X. 250 I feed a flame within, which so vii. i If ever I marry, I'll marry a III. 70 If from the lustre of the sun ... IX. 269 If I freely may discover iv. 218 If I had wit for to indite 11.289 If I live to grow old (for I find vii. 128 If in that breast so good, so pure x. 158 If I were dead, and, in my place VI. 177 If Love be life, I long to die !... iv. 174 ' If Love, his arrows shoot so fast v. 193 If Music and sweet Poetry agree IV. 21 If Music be the food of Love... vii. 248 I followed fame, and got vii. 268 If those who live in Shepherd's vill. 278 ' If thou hadst liberty to choose viii. 233 If thou in surety safe wilt sit ... 1 1 1 . 1 36 If thou long'st so much to learn iv. 232 If thou wilt mighty be, flee from il. 10 If thus, we needs must go v. 40 If 'tis joy to wound a Lover... viil. 45 If to be absent, were to be vi. 84 If Wine and Music have the... viii. 80 If Women could be fair and ill. 298 If you can find a heart, sweet ... vi. 295 If you do love as well as I v. 299 I got me flowers, to straw thy way v. 1 85 I grant, athousand oaths Iswore vii. 68 I grieve; and dare not showmy III. 157 I had both money and a friend... II. 286 I hate the Country's dirt and v, 204 I have been in love, and in debt vi. 264 I have considered it ! and find... vi. 179 I have done one braver thing v. 95 I have lost, and lately, these ... vi. no I heard, lately, to a Lady II. 89 I heard when Fame, with in. 56 1 hope there's noSoul ix. 281 I in these flowery meads would vi. 246 I joy not in no earthly bliss ! ... HI. 227 I know that all beneath the ... iv, 288 I know the thing that 's most vill. i I know thy malice, trifling Boy ! vil. 393 BRIT. ANTH. X. PAGE I lately vowed, but 'twas in ... vii. 293 I'll from my breast tear fond... vii. 254 I'll gaze no more on her v. 215 'I'll tell her, the next time! 'said viii. 239 I loathe that I did love ! 11.249 I loo'd ne'er a Laddie but ane!... x. 122 I looked, and I sighed, and I vili. 58 I love, and He loves me again... v. 26 Hove! but She alone shall know Vlll. 67 I loved thee once ; I'll love no... v. 107 Hove! I dote I I rave with pain ! v 11. 168 I love the jocund dance X. 142 I'm lonesome, since I crossed the IX. 120 I'm told by the wise ones, a Maid x. 116 I mun be maiTied a Sunday ! .... III. 51 I'm wearin' awa', John ! X. 218 In a grove, most rich ofshadc... III. 21 J In all humanity, we crave vii. io8 In all this world, I think none... ill. 167 In an arbour I. 193 In a sad unfrequented cypress... vii. 163 In a sweet healthy air, on a farm X. 138 In Beauty, or Wit viil. 150 In Britain's Isle, no matter where IX. 86 In Celia's face, a question did ... V. 2 1 7 In Church, the ' Prayer Book' viii. 149 In Cyprus sat fair Venus, by a . III. 241 In Cyprus,springs (where as Dame II. 64 In dew of roses steeping iv. 225 I never drank of Aganippe Well Hi. 205 I never saw a face till now vil. 125 I never yet could see that face... vi. 248 In Georgia's land, where Tiflis... ix. 53 In going to my naked bed, as... III. 102 In good King Charles's golden vill. 147 In Heaven, one holiday, you... vill. 71 In her fair cheeks, two pits do lie v. 224 In holiday gown , and my new. . . ix. 2co In London standsa famous Pile vill. 175 In long time past, when, in III. 164 In Love's name, you are charged ! v. 194 In May, as that Aurora did I. i In my conceit, She would him... vi. 81 321 Index of First Lines, Vols. I — X. PAGE In peascod time, when hound to IV. 142 In pride of youth, in midst of.., IV. 86 In prime of youthly years, as... III. 161 In September, in falling of the ... I. 219 In sober mornings, do not thou VI. 107 In Sparta, long ago, where III. 232 In such a night, when every... Vlll. 112 Insulting Beauty! you misspend vii. 118 In the barn, the tenant Cock ... ix. 202 In the large book of Plays, yon vi. 221 In the merry month of May iv. 70 In this disguise and pastoral ...IV. 99 In time of yore, when Shepherds III. 186 In two large columns on thy Vlli. 152 In vain, a thousand slaves have vil. 218 In vain, dear Cloe! yousuggest viii. 236 In vain, with riches would you try IX. 244 In vain, you boast poetic names vill. 109 In vain, you tell your parting viii. 70 Invest my head with fragrant ... vi. 176 In wet and cloudy mists, I slowly V. 342 In youth, before I waxed old ... iv. 43 I ovra I am fickle ! To Phillida's x. 130 I pass all my hours in a shady... vi. 242 I passed my childhood's home... X. 190 I pray thee, leave ! Love me no v. 39 I pray thee, Love ! say, Whither iv. 45 I pray thee, Nymph I by all the . lii. 276 I prithee, let my heart alone vi. 80 I prithee, send me back my heart ! v. 283 I prithee, spare me, gentle Boy ! v. 286 I promised Sylvia to be true ... vii. 116 I rose np at the dawn of day x. 144 I said to my heart, between... viii. 225 I saw Eternity, the other night vi. 183 I saw fair Chloris walk alone ... vi. 23 I saw, in secret, to my Dame... iv. 43 I saw, last night, a pretty sight I Vll. 156 I saw my Lady weep ! iv. 163 Is Celadon unkind ? It cannot vii. 33 I sent a Sigh unto my Blest One's v. 250 I sing divine Astrea's praise !.,. III. 292 I smg of Brooks, of Blossoms ... vi. 106 322 PAGE Is it possible II. 32 Is Love a Boy ? What means he III. 281 I slyly stole this secret Charm viil. 327 ' I smile at Love, and all his... VII. 298 I smile to see how you devise.. III. 196 Is She not full of all goodly I. 123 Is there, for honest Poverty X. 60 I stood, and saw my Mistress ... V. 193 I strove in vain ! Here, take my VII. 249 I struck the board, and cried V. 172 I swear, by Muscadel ! VI. 173 ' It always has been thought... VIII. 89 It chanced, of late, a Shepherd's IV. 168 I tell thee, Dick ! where I have v. 272 It fell about the Lammas-tide.... i. 50 I, that erstwhile the world's IV. 273 It hath been, through all Ages. . . III. i I, that in heal was and gladness... 1. 23 I thought, I could not go astray VI. 210 It is an Ancient Mariner X. 241 It is not, Celia, in our power... VII. 139 It is not that I love you less ... vi. 55 It must be so I Plato, thou ... VIII. 48 I told my Nymph, I told her true IX. 44 I took the paper in my trembling Vlll. 139 I travelled on ; seeing the Hill... V. 171 It was a Friar of Orders Gray... IX. 176 It was a lovely sight to see X. 279 It was a valley gaudy green III. 264 It was the Frog in the Well ... IV. 193 It was the winter wild v. 136 I've gotten a rock ! I've gotten a X. 155 I've heard ofalilting, at ourewes' ix. 170 I've no sheep on the mountain, nor X. 197 I've seen the smiling ix. 173 I walked along a stream, for ... IV. 133 I wandered out, a while agone... V. 75 I was foretold. Your rebel sex ... V. 222 I weigh not Fortune's frown or. . . IV. 269 I will be plane III. 71 I will confess v. 269 I will you tell a full good sport... i. 108 I, with whose colouis Myra ill. 325 Index of First Lines, Vols. I-^X. PAGE I wonder, what Alexis ails? ... vii. i86 I wonder, why, by foul-mouthed vi. 220 I would the God of Love would v. 195 Jack and Joan, they think no ill I v. 239 Jockey was a dowdy lad vil. 273 Jog on ! jog on the foot-path ... iv. 9 John Anderson, my jo! John!... x. 88 John Gilpin was a Citizen x. i Jolly Shepherd, Shepherd on a, . . iv. 1 64 Julia, if I chance to die vi. 106 Keep on your veil, and hide your v. 238 Kind are her answers iv. 235 KingHeart,intohiscomelyCastle II. 212 Kitty's charming Voice and Face IX. 164 Know, Celia! (since thou art so v. 220 Know then, my brethren ! vi. 44 Ladies! farewell! I must retire! vil. 38 Ladies ! fly from Love's smooth v. 225 Ladies! though to your vil. 144 Lady, that, in the prime of VI. 23 Lady! you are with beauties so iv. 127 Laid in my quiet bed, in study as I 1 1. 55 Laid in my quiet bed to rest iii. 145 Lament! lament! you Scholars. . . v. 235 Lapped onCythera's golden sands X. 206 Last May, a braw Wooer cam'... x. 86 Lately, on yonder swelling bush vi. 59 ' Laugh not too much ! Perhaps IV. 79 Laura! thy sighs must now no... X. 227 Lay a garland on my hearse ... iv. 208 Leave, Garrick ! the rich ix. i8a Leave me, O, Love ! which iir. 223 Leave me, simple Shepherd ! ... ix. 276 Y T 1. ^A^^ Lest the misconstring World ... v. 257 Let it not your wonder move v. lo Let me not, to the marriage of... IV. 4 Let not Love on me bestow... viii. 62 Let other Bards invoke the ix. 247 Let 's now take our time vi. 124 Let them censure ! what care I? viii. 81 Let the Nymph still avoid, and be ix. 133 Let us turn usurers of time vii. 41 Let Vice no more, in her full... vii. 281 Let who will, complain of the... ix. 166 Life has no real bliss in store! IX. 213 Life is a jest ; and all things... viii. 166 Like a ring, without a finger ... iv. 197 Like as a huntsman, after weary iv. 42 Like a young Gallant, newly come v. 32 Like desert woods, with iv. 90 Like Memnon's rock, touched... iv. 39 Like the violet, which alone v. 202 Like to a hermit poor, in place I v. 155 Like to Diana in her summer... in. 268 Like to these nnmeasurable 11. 31 Like truthless dreams, so are my iv. 149 Live, live with me ! and thou... vi. 139 Live, Spenser, ever in thy ' Fairy iv. 33 London ! thou art of townes * A I. 31 Long ere the morn v. 296 Long had our dull forefathers. . . vil. 260 Long have I lived in Court : yet iv. 36 Long time I fought, and fiercely lir. 161 Long time. Plain Dealing, in the vii. 109 Long was I, Lady Luck ! your... 11. 125 Lords, Knights, and Squires ... viII. 76 Lord ! Thou hast given me a cell vi. 148 Loud roared the dreadful thunder x. 230 Love, a child is, ever crying ! ... v. 88 Love and Folly were at play... vill. 66 Love and my Mistress were at... IV. 74 Love bade me hope ; and I ... vii. 117 Love bade me welcome ! yet my v. 186 Love, Beauty, Valour, when their v. 265 Love built a stately House : where v. 179 Love, drunk the other day vi. 93 2 323 Index of First Lines, Vols. I — X. PAGE Love guides the roses of thy lips iv. 92 Love! if a God thou art iv. 121 'Love! if thou wilt, once more... V. 59 Love, in fantastic Triumph sat vil. 159 Love, in my bosom, like a bee... in. 270 Lovf. is a law, a discord, of such v. 104 Love is a scion cropped fiom vill. 61 Love is a sickness, full of woes iv. loi Love is blind, and a wanton I ... IV. 214 Lovely Maya, Hermes' mother IV. 66 Love me little ; love me long!... III. 116 Love, Mistress is of many minds IV. 52 Love, Reason, Hate, did once... V. 283 Love's a lovely lad ! V. 103 Love 's an idle childish Passion viii. 232 Love's Goddess, sure, was blind vii. 228 Love's Queen (long waiting for I v. 81 Love still has something of the vii. 234 Love thee I good sooth, not I... VI. 275 Love! thou'rt the best of human vii. 198 Love, wearied with his roving viii. 97 Love, what art thou 1 A vain... v. 87 Love, when 'tis true, needs not vii. 344 Love, which is, here, a Care v. 60 Love who will; for I'll love iv. 278 Laxuriant with perennial green... X. 100 Madam ! as long as it doth please 1. 1 24 Madam, 'tis true your beauties... v. 208 Maidens! why spare ye? iv. 258 ' Maid ! will ye love me ? Yea III. 192 Make me a bowl, a mighty bowl vii. 107 Man, if thou be'st a Babe of ... vi. 44 Man's a poor deluded Bubble viii. 295 Man upon mould, whatsoever thou i. 179 Manydesire; but few, or none... iv. 153 Margarita first possest VI. 254 Mark, how the bashful Mom in... v. 217 Mark, that swift arrow ! how it... v. 260 Mark, when She smiles with ... iv. 44 Mars, in a fury 'gainst Love's... III. 348 PAGE Martial I the things that do attain II. 57 Marvellous be thy matchless III. 75 Master Roister Doister will III. 52 May I find a woman fair IV. 196 May the ambitious ever find ... VII. 43 Me Cupid made a happy slave vill. 63 Melanipus ! When will Love be III. 185 Melpomene ! the Muse of tragic ill. 184 Men! ifyonloveus; play no... v. 7 Men, with much toil, and time vii. 145 Merry it was, in green forest I. 84 Methought, I saw the grave III. 384 Milton! thou shouldst be living at X. 169 Mine be a Cot beside the hill ! .. . X. 106 Mine eye, with all the Deadly... iv. 116 ' Mine high Estate, power, and... II. 114 Mine old dear Enemy, my fro ward II. 38 Mine own John Poyntz ! Since ye II. 18 Mistaken Fair ! lay 'Sherlock'... IX. 71 'Morning! Morning!' 11.266 Morpheus, the humble God that vi. 32 Mortality, behold and fear ! IV. 200 My bonny Lass, thine eye I v. 88 My Daphne's hair is twisted III. 200 My days have been so wondrous vill. 1 14 My dear and only Love ! I pray vi. 103 My dearly loved friend ! how oft v. 46 My dear Mistress has a heart... vii. 116 My Eye ! why didst thou light. HI. 137 My flocks feed not ! My ewes... iv. 18 My Galley, charged with II. 3 My ghostly father ! I me confess 1. 122 My Goddess, Lydia, heavenly... VII. 119 My heart is a breaking, dear X. 58 My heart leaps up, when I X. 183 My heart's lust and all my pleasure il. 104 My lov'd, my honor'd, much X. 66 My Love and I, for kisses played v. 238 My Love bound me, with a kiss I v. 130 My love is strengthened, though IV. 8 My Love lay sleeping, where ... iv. 41 My Lute, awake ! Perform the .. . 11. 12 My Maker! of thy Power the trace x. 296 Index of First Lines, Vols. I — X. PAGE My mind to me a Kingdom is! III. 228 My mother bids me bind my hair X. 95 My mother's maids, when they did II. 4 My Pen ! take pain, a little space il. 30 My Phillis hath the morning sun iv. 91 My Ratcliff! when thy retchless 11. 81 My shag-hair[ed] Cyclops! come III. 204 My sheep I neglected, I lost my ix. 170 ' My silks and fine array X. 143 My soul, there is a country VI. 178 My sweetest Lesbia, let us live... IV. 229 My temples, with clusters of ... IX. 119 My Thoughts are winged with. . . I V. 26 My time, O, ye Muses ! was... vill. 100 My True Love hath my heart ... III. 206 Nature and Fortune, blithe and n. 74 Nay, Ivy ! Nay ! it shall not be... I. 145 Near Richmond's bright vales, in IX. 140 Needy Knife-Grinder! whitherare X. 212 Never love! unless youcan iv. 249 Never was I less alone, than being il. 129 News from the heavens ! All ... IV. 76 Nimble Boy 1 in thy warm flight V. 200 Noblest Charis ! you that are ... V. 14 No glory I covet ! no riches I . . . IX. 263 No ! I will sooner trust the wind vi. 75 No joy, or grief, can, in this life v. 80 ' No more ! my Dear ! No more III. 218 No more of my Harriot! of Polly X. 42 No more shall meads be decked v. 214 No 1 No ! fair heretic ! It needs v. 282 No! No! Poor suffrmg heart vil. 7 No! No! 'Tis in vain, in this... IX. 262 NoNymphoftheplainlcanfind IX. 139 Norfolk sprang thee ! Lambeth. . . II. 62 Nor Love, nor Fate, dare I accuse v. 157 No sooner, Flavio ! were you. . . Vli. 194 Not caring to observe the wind vi. 52 Not, Celia ! that I juster am... vil. 243 PAGE Not for the promise of the laboured x. iia Nothing adds to your fond fire VII. 120 Not long agone a youthful Swain IV. 280 Not marble, nor the gilded iv. la Not that I wish my Mistress ... vi. 34 Not that thy fair hand vii. 173 Not the soft sighs of vernal gales ix. 118 Not though I know he fondly... vii. 203 Not with more glories in th'... vili. 10 Not yet bestowed ! Melania?... vii.226 No warning of th' approaching vill. 238 Now cooled is Dame Venus' brand i. .16 Now each creature joys the other iv. 98 Nowell! Nowell! Nowell! II. 131 Now, have I learned, with much \\\ 176 Now is the time for mirth ! vi. 113 Now, Joan! we are married! and x. 128 Now, let her change, and spare iv. 244 'Now, Robin! lend to me thy... 11. in Now that the winter 's gone, the. . . v, 2 1 1 Now, the bright Morning Star. . . v. 1 33 Now the dancing sunbeams play X. 93 Now the lusty Spring is seen V. 61 ' Now to disclose !'• 275 Now winter nights enlarge I v. 229 Nymph of the splendent eye and X. 1 89 O, cruel Love I on thee I lay.. . ill. ao2 O, Cupid ! Monarch over Kings ! 1 11. 199 O, day, most calm, most l>righl ! v. 177 O.dear! what can the matter be? x. in O, Death ! rock me on sleep ! ... II. 244 O, do not wanton with those eyes! v. i O'er the heath, the heifer strays ix. 205 O, faithless World ! and thy ... iv. 298 OfalltheGirlsthataresosmart viii. 266 Of all the torments, all the cares viii. 52 Of a' the airts the wind can blaw x. 80 Of Februar', the fifteenth night... i. 41 Of Leinster, famed for Maidens viii. 172 Index of First Lines, Vols. I — X. PAGE O, fly, my soul ! What hangs... VI. 203 Of old, when Scarron his IX. 25 O, forbear to bid me slight her! Vlll. 128 Of Serving Men I will begin II. 288 Oft hast thou told me, Dick ! in vill. 186 Of thee, kind Boy ! I ask no red v. 284 ' Oft I've implored the Gods in... IX. 214 ' Of your trouble, Ben ! toease... V. 19 O, gentle Love ! ungentle for... III. 184 O.good Englishman I hear what I ll. 285 O.goodly hand ! II. 26 O, grant that Marshal Wade... VIII. 275 O, happy Dames ! that may II. 82 O, happy Thames ! that didst... III. 211 Oh ! how I sigh and sob ! V. 84 O, how could I venture to love IX. 59 O, I'll have a husband! aye... vill. 271 O, Lady Mary Ann looks o'er the X. 65 O, last and best of Scots! who... Vll. 9 Old Chiron thus preached to his Vll. 172 Old friendship binds (though... III. 138 Old Menalcas, on a day III. 246 Old Time and Pleasure, on a day IX. 168 O, Life ! what lets thee from a IV. 55 ' 0,Love ! ife'er thou'lteasea... vi. 296 O, Love! that stronger art than vii. 155 O, Mary! at thy window be I ... x. 57 O, Mary I turn awa X. 163 O, Mistress mine, where are you IV. 13 O, my heart ! and O, my heart... II. 109 O, my Love 's like the red, red x. 89 O, my Philander! ope your VII. 153 On a bank, beside a willow Vll. 6 On a hill, that graced the plain iv. 279 'On a hill there grows a flower IV. 75 O, Nancy! wilt thou go with me IX. 174 Once, asmethought, Fortune me 11. 22 Once did my thoughts both ebb iv. 286 Once in our lives Vll. 172 Once may I see, when years may iii. 291 Oncemore, I tune the vocal shell! ix. 184 Once more, Love's mighty vii. 124 Once, Venus' cheeks, that shamed v. 239 326 PAGE One asked me, Where the roses vi. 146 One day. Good bye! met How... X. 207 One day, I wrote her name upon iv. 42 One day, the God of fond desire vllI. 282 One night, I did attend my sheep iv. 68 One night, when all the village Vll. 66 One of her hands one of her IV. 17 One silent night, of late VI. 118 0,Nicias! there is no other III. 234 O, nightingale ! best poet of the viii. 282 O, nightingale! that, on yon ... vi. 2 Only a little more VI. 152 Only tell her, that I love! vil. 179 O, no more ! no more ! Too late v. 166 On quicksedge, wrought with... IV. 93 On racks of Love distended ... VII. 178 On Richmond hill there lives a... X. 203 On Scotia's plains, in days of... IX. 283 On Thames's bank, a gentle... VIII. 249 On the brow of a Hill a young... IX. 106 On the high summit of yon rocky x. 1 89 O, Nymph ! of Fortune's smiles X. 132 Orpheus, with his lute, made ... IV, 14 O, ruddier than the cherry ! ... vili. 159 O, sacred Blush, impurpling ... iv. 289 O, saw ye bonie Lesley x. 82 ' O, say, What is that thing Vlii. 257 'O, sleep! it is a gentle thing X. 253 ' O, sop of sorrow, sunken into... 1. 171 O, Sorrow! Sorrow ! say. Where V. 188 O, Summer! thy presence gives X. 135 O, sweet delight ! O, more than iv. 230 O, that joy so soon should IV. 215 O, that my tongue had been as... V, iii O, that those lips had language! X. 16 O, the bonny Christ Church ... vii. 146 O, the brave Fisher's life ! vi. 198 O, the month of May ! the iv. 189 O, the pleasing, pleasing Vlli. 45 O, the sweet contentment.. IV. 266 O, thou that swing'st upon the. . . vi. 86 Our reign is come ! For in the. . . i v. 205 Out upon it! I have loved v. 294 Index of First Lines, Vols. I—X, PAGE 'O, Venus! Beauty of the skies! Vlii. 104 Over the mountains, and under... v. 148 O, Virgins! tell me how to choose I x. 126 O, weel may the boatie row x. 198 O, where, tell me where, is your X. 229 O, whistle, and I'll come to you x. 74 O, whither is my Love vil. 299 ' O, why is Man so thoughtless vii. 180 O, words, which fall like summer iii. 206 O, would to God ! a way were... v, 90 O, Years! and Age! farewell! vi. 151 O, Yes! O, Yes! if any Maid ...iii. 203 O, you powerful Gods J If I... vii. 37 Pack, clouds, away; and iv. 297 Pan's Syrinx was a Girl indeed . iii. 200 Pass forth, my wonted cries! .,.11. 23 Passion may my judgement blear! iv. 126 Pastime with good company 11. 108 Patience! Though I have not... II. 29 Peace! babbling Muse ! VI. 51 Peace, Cupid! Take thy bow in v 11. 33 Penny is a hardy knight I. 79 Perdy! I said it not II. 46 * Perhaps, it is not Love,' said I ix. 48 Persuade me not, there is a grace viii. 11 1 Phillida was a fair Maid 11. 58 Phillis! be gentler 1 I advise,., vii. 122 Phillis is lively, brisk, and gay Vlll. 200 Phillis is my only joy ! vii. 245 Phillis kept sheep along the HI. 260 Phillis I men say, That all my. . . VIi. 233 Phillis ! why should we delay. . . vi. 64 Phillis! you have enough vii. 246 Phyllis, for shame, let us vil. 42 Pinch him! Pinch him black and Hi. 198 Piping dovra the valleys wild ... x. 139 Pity, fair Sappho! one that dies vii. 114 Placebo! 11. 132 Pluck the fruit, and taste the... ill. 274 Poets may boast (as safely vain) vi. 61 PAGE Poets, your subjects, have their VII. 8 Polly ! from me, though now a vili. 306 Poor Celia, once, was very fair vi. 294 Poor Harpalus, oppressed with IV. 226 Popehasthetalentwelltospeak vill. 211 Prepared to rail, resolved to part vii. 218 Preserve thy sighs, unthrifty Girl vi. 226 Pretty twinkling starry eyes! ... IV. 71 Priests of Apollo ! Sacred be the v. 37 Prithee, Cloe ! not so fast ! VII. 291 Prithee, little Boy! refrain! ... vii. 64 Prithee, sweet Fair One ! why so X. 158 ' Prithee, tell me, Phillis ! vi. 289 Prithee, tell me, What a Beau viil. 98 Prithee, why so angry ? Sweet ! vil. 55 Purse! who'll not know, you ... V. 333 Queen and Huntress, chaste and iv. 217 Queen of the silver bow ! by thy X. 93 Quivering fears, heart-tearing ... V. 130 Rare artisan! whose pencil VI. 54 Reach, with your whiter hands vi. 146 Reading ends in melancholy!... viil. 85 Reason and Love, lately, at IV. 129 Reason and Time had once vil. 40 Rebellious fools ! that scorn to... VI. 74 Reign in my thoughts, fair HI. 291 Renowned Spenser, lie a thought v. 22 Resound my voice, ye woods ! that 11. 32 Restore thy tresses to the golden iii. 290 'Rest you still, most gallant IV. 109 Return, my joys ! and hither V. 239 Rhyme, the rack of finest Wits ! v. 4 Rich damask roses in fair cheeks iv. 94 Right as the Star of Day began to I. 7 Ring out your bells ! Let III. 230 Rise, Heart ! Thy Lord is risen ! V. 184 Robene sat on [a] good green hill 1. 146 Index of First Lines , Vols. 1 — X. PAGE Roister Doister is my name III. 51 Romira! stay vi. 72 Roses, at first, were white VI. 120 Roses, their sharp spines being... IV. 211 Royal Charlie 's now awa IX. 36 Sad, all alone, not long I musing iv. 39 Say, but did you love so long! ... V. 295 Say, Corinna! Do you find ... vil. 290 Say,Myra! why is gentle Love viii. 246 Says my uncle, ' I pray you ... viii. 167 Say, sweet Carol ! Who are they X. 191 Say, that I should say, ' I love... iv. 77 Scots, wha ha'e wi' Wallace bled X. 84 Sea-bom Goddess! let me be.., vi. 129 See, how the orient dew VII. 99 See, Hymen comes ! How his vii. 230 See ! see ! my Chloris comes in vi. 274 See ! see, she wakes ! Sabina ,..viii. 57 See the Chariot at hand here of... v, 13 See, the Spring herself discloses VI. 74 See, with what constant motion vi. 94 See, with what simplicity Vli. 89 Send home my long-strayed Eyes v. 94 Send me some Tokens I that my v. 96 Sen that I am a Prisoner I. 18 * Servant, farewell ! ' Is this my v. 98 SJerve thy God truly I. 296 Set me where as the sun do[th] 11. 87 Shall I come, sweet Love ! to... iv. 237 Shall I (like a hermit) dwell ... iv. 162 Shall I no way win you to grant III. 106 Shall I tell you, whom I love?... iv. 281 Shall I, wasting in despair iv, 272 She dwelt among th' untrodden. . . X. 1 7 1 She is so proper and pure II. 286 Shepherd, what is Love? I pray iv. 152 Shepherd! when thou seest me ix. 77 She said. The pitying audience viii. 30 She sat and sewed, that hath done 11. 9 She smiled to see her son in such iii. 162 328 PAGE She 's not the fairest of her name vi. 41 She was a Phantom of delight,., x. 183 -She was not coy ! vill. 218 She, whose fair flowers no iv. 390 Shoot, false Love! Icarenot!,,, iv. 252 .Should auld acquaintance be X. 76 Shundelaysl They breed iv. 59 Shut not so soon ! The dull-eyed vi. 150 Sick oftheWorld, fair Delia flew ix, 141 .Sigh no more. Ladies ! sigh no IV. 1 1 Sighs are my food : my drink is II. 25 Silly boy, 'tis full moon yet ! Thy IV. 244 Silvia! of all your amorous ,,. vll. 292 Silvio, go on ! and raise thy v. 62 Simple is my ghost, and scarce... I. 81 Since Coelia 's my foe vil. 74 Since, dearest Harry ! you will vil. 260 Since first I saw your face, 1 ... iv. 223 Since, Fortune ! thou art become vi. 83 Since there 's no help ; come, let IV. 260 Since true penance hath iv. 124 Sing, all ye Muses ! your lutes Vli. 267 Sing his praises, that doth keep IV. 213 Sing, Lullaby! as women do... ill. 133 Sing merrily now, my Lads!... vii. 14- Sing to Apollo ! God of Day... 111,201 Sir Eglamore, that worthy knight IV. 284 Sir Hugh Montgomery was he... I. 75 Sir John Cope trode the North IX. 33 'Sir Painter! Are thy colours .. iv. 34 Sister, awake ! Close not your... I v. 265 Sisters of the tuneful strain ! ix. 194 Sit down, Carmela! here are... III. 244 Sleep, poor Youth ! Sleep in... vii. 274 Sleep! Silence's child ! Sweet... iv. 2S9 Sleep, ye great Manes of the ... Vll. 277 Slow, slow, fresh fount ! Keep... iv. 215 ' So cruel prison how could betide 11. 78 Soft child of Love! thou balmy x. 137 Soft kisses may be innocent ... viii, 277 Soft slept the sea within its silver ix. 233 So many Loves have I neglected iv. 24S Some cry up Gunnersbury ! ix. 66 Index of First Lines, Vols. I—X. PAGE Some die with their eternal toil VI i, 219 Some say, Love III. 249 Some talk of Alexander, and some X. 41 Some there are as fair to see too iv. 121 Some thirty, or forty, or fifty vil. 269 Some time I loved, as ye may see i. 118 Somewhat musing 1. 180 'So passed aweary time: each... x. 347 So saith my fair and beautiful... iv. 265 So well is me begun! II. 2S8 Spite of thy Godhead, powerful vii. 258 Spring all the Graces of the Age v. 3 Steer hither ! steer your winged iv. 276 Stella and Flavia, ev'ry hour... viii. 221 Stella! the fullness of my ill. 211 Still to be neat ! Still to bedrest iv. 217 ' Still wilt thou sigh ! and still Vli. 205 Strange fits of Passion I have ... X. 170 Strange that such horror, and... VI. 65 Strephon has Fashion, Wit, and vii. 151 Strephon's sole care is, how to. . . ix. 261 Strephon ! when thou seest me fly IX. 77 Sufficed not, Madam! that you... 11. 48 Sure, Cloe just, and Cloe fair. . . Vlll. 78 Swains! Ihatetheboist'rousFair ix. 245 Swains, I scorn ! who, nice and IX. 78 Sweet Adon. ! dar'st not glance III. 258 Sweet are the charms of her I viii. 140 Sweet are the thoughts that in. 243 Sweet Auburn ! loveliest Village IX. 10 Sweet Day ! so cool ! so calm ... V. 182 Sweet Echo ! Sweetest Nymph ! V. 145 Sweetest Bud of Beauty! may vil. 141 Sweet ! I do not pardon crave... iv. 122 Sweet kiss ! thy sweets I fain ... III. 210 Sweet Love, mine only treasure ! IV. 171 Sweet Muse ! tell me, where is . III. 100 * Sweet Phillis! if a silly Swain iv. 78 Sweet Smile, the Daughter of the iv. 44 Sweet Spring! thou tum'st, with iv. 288 Sweet stream ! that dost, with vii. 257 Sweet Suffolk owl, so trimly dight v. 256 Sweet Violets ! Love's Paradise ! IV. 139 PAGE Sweet Western Wind ! whose... vi. 121 Syne that I have a nonpareil 1. 124 Tagus, farewell ! that westward... II. 48 Take heed, bold Lover ! Do not vi. 277 Take heed, fair Chloris ! how... vi. 278 ' Take in your Ancients, and your 11. 96 Take, O, take those lips away... IV. 16 Take wing, my Soul ! and vii. 184 Tantivy I tivy ! tivy ! tivy ! high v II. 271 Tell me, dearest ! What is Love ? iv. 209 ' Tell me, Eunesia ! piithee ... vili. 298 Tell me, Eutresia ! since my fate v. 189 Tell me, gentle Strephon, why vii. 141 Tell me, good Hobbinol ! what III. 41 Tell me, lovely loving pair! vi. 56 Tell me no more, how fair She VI. 97 Tell me no more, I am VII. 140 Tell me no more of Venus, and Vli. 178 Tell me not, I my time VI. 29 Tell me not of a face that 's fair vi. 261 Tell me not of joy ! There 's none v. 243 Tell me not. Sweet ! I am unkind vi. 85 Tell me not. Time hath played... v. 197 ' Tell me tidings of my mother. . . vi. 204 Tell me. Where is Fancy bred... I v. 3 Tell me, ye softer Powers above! vii. 152 'Thanks, Chloe! Thy viil. 285 Thanks, fair Urania ! to your... vii. 238 ' That, I would not persuaded be III. 187 That none beguiled be, by Time's v. 279 That time ofyear, thou mayst in IV. 12 That whereas your royal father. . . V. 29 That which her slender waist ... VI. 61 The Bard, whom the charms of... X. 228 The blushing rose and purple... V. 127 The Boar's Head in hand bring I 11. 130 The Boar's Head, that we bring II. 131 ' The business of Woman, dear ix. 158 The chough and crow to roost are X. 196 The cruel Cselia loves, and Vll. 255 Index of First Lines, yols. I — A'. PAGE The Curfew tolls the knell of... IX. 99 The dainty young heiress of ... Vll. 44 'The day is departed ; and round IX. 356 The dews ofsummer night did fall ix. 337 The duskynight rides down the viii. 361 The earth, late choked with III. 373 The English men had their bows I. 65 The fifteenth Kalends of II. 379 The fire of Love in youthful ... VII. 43 The fire seven times tried this ! IV. 5 The first Finder of our fair i. 83 The forward Violet thus did I... IV. 8 The forward youth, that would VI. 233 The Gentry to the ' King's Head' iv. 396 The glories of our blood and... vi. 301 The Gods are not more blest... vil. 163 The golden gift that Nature did il. 54 *The Golden World is past'... III. 154 The Gordian knot, which True... v. 149 The Grecians used to offer up... iv. 93 The green that you did wish me III. 1 1 3 The Hag is astride VI. 125 The hearth was clean, the fire ... X. 124 The heart you left, when you... vii. 187 ' The heavy hours are almost vill. 245 ' The Hermit good lives in that X. 363 The Hunt is up ! The Hunt is up ! il. 1 05 The joys of eager Youth, of Wine v. 146 The kiss, with so much strife V. 60 The Laird o' Cockpen, he's proud X. 32 1 The lapse of Time and Rivers is X. 13 The lark now leaves his wat'ry VI. 326 The Lass that would know how Vlll. 204 Thelazymist hangs from the brow X. 83 The lively lark stretched forth. . . III. 396 The loppM tree, in time, may... iv. 51 TheMaiden,throughthefavonring x. 186 The Maid that's blessed with ... x. 210 The man is blest III. isi The man upright of life, whose... IV. 247 The merchant, to secure his... vili. 80 The merry waves dance up and VI. 357 The merry World did, on a day... V. 186 PAGE The mind ofa woman can never viii. 219 The mind of bright Suky's a jewel IX. 379 The minutes, the hours, the... viil. 253 Themoon had climbed the highest X. 103 The more health he hath, the more II. 3 10 The morning cloud was tinged IX. 198 The morning is charming, all... IX. 63 The Muse and the Hero together ix. 63 The Muses, quite jaded with ... IX. 68 Then, farewell, my trim-built... IX. 397 Then, follow, brave Boys ! to... Vll. 366 Then hey, for a Lass wi' a tocher x. 85 The night is come, like to the... VI. 33 Then Life on the land • ladylike... 1. 136 Then, on the sudden, fast away III. 163 The Nymph must lose her female x. 27 The Nymph that undoes me, is VII. 136 The partial Muse has, from my.. . x. 93 The Percy came before his host... I. 55 The Percy, out of Northumberland i. 63 The Play of Love is now begun Vlil. 264 The pleasures of Love and the vil. 136 The Poets feign, that, when the iv. 368 The poor man fasts, because he vi. 83 The Poplars are felled ; and Adieu X. 36 The praise of meaner Wits, this ill. 284 The pride of ev'ry grove I chose viii. 86 Therefore, above the rest iv. 391 There is a field, through which I X. 30 There is a garden in her face ... iv. 238 There is a jewel, which no Indian iv. 352 There is a Lady sweet and kind iv. 223 There is none, O, none but you ! IV. 85 There lay this pretty perdue, safe iv. 17 There never yet was honest man v. a8i There 's a Youth in this City, it.. . X. 64 There sighs not on the plain... vii. 110 There 's no dallying with Love. . . vi. 1 86 There 's nought but care on ev'ry X. 53 There was a Boy; ye knew him X. 165 There was a jolly Miller once ... ix. 159 There was an a May, and she Vlll. 203 There was an old fellow at ... viii. 219 Index of First Lines, Vols. /— X PAGE There was an old man, and x. 48 There was an old prophecy ... vri. 191 There was a Youth, and a vii. 104 Therewas never nothing more me II. 43 There were three ravens sat on a 11. 126 The Rose had been washed, just x. 13 The ru>hing rivers that do run. . . in. 98 The Sailor sighs, as sinks his x. 106 The Sea Nymphs late did play . ill. 237 These, equal syllables alone,., vill. 3 These women all II. 243 The shajie and face let others ... ix. 253 The silver moon's enamoured... ix. 199 The smiling Mom, the breathing ix. 147 The smoky sighs, the bitter tears in. 58 'The snows are melted, and the viii. 138 The Soldier, worn with wars... in. 168 The soote season, that bud and ... il. 64 Thestilis, a silly man, when love II. 88 The sun does arise X. 140 The sun from the East tips the... x. 125 The sun hath twice brought forth 11. 52 'The sun now rose upon the right X. 245 ' The sun sets in night, and the X. 94 The sun, when he hath spread his li. 68 The sun (which doth the greatest iv. 201 The tears I shed must ever fall ! x. 204 The trials, that those men do... Vli. 53 The twentieth year is wellnigh ... x. 37 The various Suppliants which Vlll. 294 The village bells ring merrily ... x. 94 The "Wanton's charms, however viii. 284 The wanton troopers, riding by vil. 76 Thewestemsky was purpled o'er IX. 46 The Women all tell me, I'm false ix. 60 The World 's a bubble ! and the v. 105 The world 's a Theatre. The ... V. 16 1 The world was hushed, and ... vil. 272 The wrathful Winter, 'proaching III. 77 They are all gone into the VI. 181 They flee from me, that sometime II. 2 They tell me. That Phillis is ... IX. 267 They, that never had the use ... vi. 63 PAGE Think'st thon, that this love... vii. 80 Think'st thou to seduce me then IV. 236 Thirsis, a kind and artless Youth ix. 266 This Cap, that so stately appears x. 35 This figure, that thou here seest... v. 22 This hinder year I heard been told i. 15 1 This is the month ; and this, the V. 1 35 This King is like the Trinity 1. 155 Thislatter night, amidst my in. 165 This morning, timely rapt with , iv. 222 This night, before the dawning... i. 28 This night is my departing night IV. 188 This one request I make to him v. 278 This World a hunting is! v. 59 Those arts which common vii. 289 Tho, taking in her lap the God. in. 162 Thou art not fair ! for all thy red IV. 250 Thou, deity, swift-winged Love ! v. 65 Though Clock vi. io8 ' Though Dorander 's sincere X. 210 Though his Passion insilencethe IX. 161 Though I am young, and cannot v. 27 Though I'm slim, and am young ix. 188 Though I never got possession vili. 145 Though late, my heart ! yet turn iv. 1 77 Though laureate Poets, in old ... 1. 192 Though, Phillis! your prevailing vil. 73 Though that face, matchless ... IX. 138 Though when I loved thee, thon vi. 79 Though women, 'tis true, are . VIII. 218 Thou, happy creature ! art vii. 130 Thou more than most sweet iv. 221 Thou, once a body, now but air I v. 1 56 ' Thou, Shepherd, whose VI. 208 Thou soft-flowing Avon, by thy IX. 196 Thou, that art proud of honour... II. 1 16 Thou, that by ruin dost repair... VI. 214 Thou that hast shot so many ... VI. 175 Thou that loved once, now lov'st v. 108 Thou watchful Taper, by whose viIl. 56 Three Poets, in three distant... VIi. 7 Thrice, toss these oaken ashes in IV. 251 Through a fair forest, as I went IV. 181 Index of First Lines, Vols. I — X. PAGE Through mournful shades, and VII. 252 Through the shrubs as I can ... III. 262 Throw away thy rod ! V. 183 Thus, in pomp and priestly pride V. 158 Thus Kitty, beautiful and viil. 84 Thus, lately, to Cupid 1 offered my x. 109 Thus Love and War, and Age... VI. 192 Thus, thus, begin the yearly rites V. 7 Thus to a ripe, consenting Maid vill. 56 Thy fatal shafts unerring move! IX. 132 Thy leave V. 73 Thyrsis, a young and am'rous VIII. 119 Thyrsis ! I wish, as well as you VII. 237 Time! I ever must complain v, 82 Time is a feathered thing VI. 225 Time may Ambition's nest destroy X. 93 Time was upon VI. 151 'Tis a child of Fancy's getting ... vi. 174 'Tis a twelvemonth ago, nay !... IX. 1 73 'Tis, in good truth, a most VI. 231 'Tis not a pyramid of marble ... v. 261 'Tis not how witty, nor how free vi. 291 'Tis not your beauty can engage VI. 53 'Tis now, since I sat down v. 292 'Tis said, as Cupid danced VI. 128 'Tis the middle of night by the... X. 269 'Tis true, I have loved already ... VI. 247 'Tis true, I never was in love ... Vi. 263 'Tis Wine that inspires vi. 193 'Tis Women make us love I ... Vll. 172 'ToArrasI To Arms!' the... vii. 39 Tobacco is but an Indian weed vil. 297 Tobacco 's a Musician V. 35 To carve our Loves in myrtle ... V. 252 To climb the high and haughty III. 150 To draw no en\'y, Shakespeare! V. 23 To ease my troubled mind of... Vlli. 247 ' To fix her ! 'Twere a task as. . . IX. 1 34 To him who in an hour must die VIII. 247 To keep thy saulfrae puny strife Vlll. 185 To little or no purpose, I spent Vii. 143 Toll for the brave 1 X. 28 To London once my steps I bent 1. 113 PAGE To make a final conquest of all Vll. 9I Tom and Will, were Shepherds. . . v. 206 To many a Kitty, Love his car IX. 158 Tom loves Mary passing well... IX. 210 To praise thy life, or wail thy. . . I! I. 285 To rise betimes, himself to II. 211 To shine in silk, and glister all IV. 271 To stifle Passion is no easy ... VIII. 120 To take thy Calling thankfully . III. 124 To the old, long life and treasure I V. 9 To these, whom Death again... VI. 168 To this moment, a rebel ; I ... Vli. 115 To thy Lover VI. 165 To tinkling brooks, to twilight... X. 40 To wake the Soul, by tender . Vlll. 46 To woo me, and win me, and kiss ix. 109 To you, fair Ladies, now at land VI. 267 ' True he it said, whatever man III. 23 Truth shews herself in secret of iv. 80 Tune on, my pipe ! the praises of iv. 166 Turn all thy thoughts to eyes ! . . . IV. 2 33 Turn, gentle Hermit of the dale ! IX. i Turn I my looks unto the skies . III. 275 Tush! let them keep him, if. VI. 49 'Twas at the royal feast, for ... VI I. 12 'Twas on a lofty vase's side IX. 80 'Twas on a Monday morning ... IX. 32 'Twas when the seas were ... vill. 162 'Twas when the winds were IX. 230 Two Youths for my love are x. 160 Underneath this sable hearse V. 28 Under the arms of a goodly oak x. 232 Under the greenwood tree IV. 14 Under this stone does lie vi i . 69 Unhappy is the man VI. loi Unhappy Tongue ! 'VN'hy didst... III. 97 Unless with my Amanda blest Vlll. 278 Up amangyon cliffy rocks x. no Upon a bank, with roses set ... iv. 361 Upon a summer's day, Love went iii. 280 Index of First Lines, Vols. I—X. PAGE Upon my lap, my Sovereign sits iv. 103 Up! quit thy Bower! late wears x. 192 'Up I Up! my friend, and clear... X. 179 Vain are the charms of white and ix. 65 Venus, by Adonis' side iv. 282 Venus fair did ride ! iv. iii Venus ! redress a wrong that 's. . . V. 244 Victorious men of Earth ! no ... vi. 203 Vital spark of heav'nly flame viii. 36 Vulcan begat me. Minerva me li. 25 Vulcan ! contrive me such a ... vii. 113 Wae is my heart, and the tear's X. 63 Wake all the dead ! Whatho!... vi. 230 Wake, my Adonis ! do not die ! v. 253 Walking among thick shades... vii. 240 Warned, and made wise by ... vili. 238 Weak and irresolute is Man ! ... X. 14 Wee, modest, crimson-tipped ... x. 77 Weep not, my Wanton ! smile . iii. 266 Weep with me, all you that read iv. 216 Weep you no more, sad fountains! iv. 47 Wee, sleeket, cowran, tim'rous ... x. 54 Welcome, Maids of Honour ! ... VI. 142 Welcome, the Creation's guest ! vii. 86 Welcome ! Welcome ! do I sing! iv. 377 Well! ifever I saw such another viii. 212 Well! I have thought on 't vii. 182 ' Well met, pretty Nymph !' says ix. 294 Well then, I now do plainly see vi. 249 Were I a King, I might command in. 299 Were I as base as is the lowly. . . IV. 268 Wert thou a King, yet not III. 299 Wha'll buy my caller herrin' 1 ... X. 219 Whan gloming grey out o'er the IX. 288 'Whare live ye? my bonie Lass! x. 62 *Whar hae ye been a' day? X. 118 What a dull fool was I VII. 72 PAGE 'What ails this heart o' mine? ... X. 154 What a rout do you make for a IX. 157 What Booker can prognosticate vi. 36 What changes here, O, hair! ... iii. 331 What charming Peals are these... v. 6 ' What cheer ? my Mates ! Luff vii. 280 What darkness clouds my senses ! v. 123 What dire offence, from am'rous viii. 4 What fair pomp have I spied of iii. 288 What help of tongue need they vi. 202 What if a day, or a month, or a iv. 247 What is it all, that men possess IV. 238 What is our Life? A Play of... IV. 149 What lives are so happy as those ix. 272 W^hatman, in his wits, had not viii. 199 What meaneth this? When I lie II. 8 Whatmeans this niceness, now... v. 113 What needs complaints? VI. 137 What needs my Shakespeare, for v. 133 What Nymph should I admire viii. 78 What pleasure have great Princes ill. i8i What ! put off with one denial ! viil. 93 What 's a good conscience ? Echo vi. 210 What shade, and what stillness. . . X. 1 30 What shall I do, to be for ever ...VI. 351 What shall I do, to show how vii. 32 What Shepherd can express IV. 48 What should I say ? II. 44 What should we do, but sing... vii. 81 Whatso be that I say, pardie! ... i. 123 What state of life can be so blest vil. 30 What thing is Love ? Itisa ill. 256 What though I am a London ... viil. 223 W^hat though they call me ... viii. 270 What time the Lady Venus III. no What ! Wilt thou pine, or fall. . . vi. a8o What Woman could do, I have vm. 356 Whawadna fight for Charlie?... ix. 31 When a Daffadil I see vi. ii3 When all was wrapped in dark VIII. 178 When as the hand at Tennis ... VI. 313 When, at the first, I took my... VII. 45 When Beauty, Venus' daughter . III. 142 333 Index of First Lines, Vols, I — X. PAGE When Britain first, at Heaven's vill. 279 When Britain, on her sea-girt... IX. 259 When Captains courageous III. 117 Whence comes my love ? O ... III. 74 When crowding folks, with ... VII. 2H When Cupid scaled first the Fort II. 346 When daisies pied, and violets... IV. 2 When Damon met Phillis first on IX. ill When Daphne first her VIII. 50 When day is gone, and darkness iv. 82 When Delia on the plain vill. 244 Whene'er I sing, or on my flute VII. 224 When fair Aurelia first became Vll. 242 When Fanny blooming fair IX. 70 When first, by fond Damon IX. 209 When first the young Alexis saw vii. 253 When first, upon your tender ... IX. 277 When God, at first, made Man... v. 176 When Heaven's great Jove had vi. 100 When house, or hearth, doth V. 56 When I advert, in my i. 217 When I a verse shall make v.270 When I beheld the Poet blind... vi. 237 When icicles hang by the wall. . . i v. 2 When I consider, how my light vi. i When I do hear thy Name ill. loo When I go musing all alone v. 119 When I think on your truth ; I VIII. 250 When I was fair and young, and III. 156 When Learning's triumph o'er ... IX. 112 When lordly Saturn, in a sable . III. 250 When Love, with unconfined ... vi. 88 When Maids live to thirty, yet VII. 294 When March was, with varying .. . 1. 34 When mighty Roast Beef was Vlll. 262 When Molly smiles, beneath her IX. 243 When my mother died, I was very X. 146 When on my sick bed I languish VI. 293 When, on the altar of my hand... v. 219 When on thy bosom I recline... IX. 280 When Peleus' son, untaught to... IX. 183 When plate was at pawn, and... VI. 239 \N hen raging love, with extreme li. 56 334 PAG I When Sapphotuned the raptured ix. 13; When She was bom, whom L.. IV. 83 ' When Slaves their liberty ... VIII. 54 When the green woods laugh with X. 147 When the rough North forgets to IX. 136 When the sheep are in the fauld ix. 248 When the trees are all bare, not a x. 117 When they did greet me 'Father' X. 334 When Thirsis did the splendid. . . VI. 23 When this Old Cap was new ... V. 226 When thou didst think I did not v. 112 When thou must home, to shades iv. 237 When thou (poor excommunicate V. 221 ' When thy beauty appears ... VIII. 115 When to her lute Corinna sings iv. 241 When Venus saw Desire must die IV. 175 When we, for age, could neither vii. 154 When whispering strains, with... v. 240 When Windsor walls sustained... II. 81 WhenWomenfirst Dame Nature III. 104 When you censure the Age ... viii. 171 When younglings first on Cupid ill. 280 When your kind wishes first I... Vll, 256 Where are they gone, the old ... X. 223 Whereat erewhile I wept, I III. 257 Where griping grief the heart... III. 106 Where's absent Clelia? Vii. 126 Where shall I have, at mine own II. 34 Where silver Thames, round ix. 156 Where the bee sucks, there suck iv. 3 W^here the remote Bermudas ... Vll. 81 ' Whereto should I express II. no Wherever I am, and whatever I vii. 2 Where wards are weak, and foes iv. 63 Whether men do laugh, or weep iv. 235 While at my house in Fleet... vill. 124 While Butler, needy wretch ! vill. 209 While from our looks, fair ... vill. 77 Whilegentle Parthenissa walks vill. 62 While I listen to thy voice vi. 59 While in divine Panthea's vil. 114 Whiles I, this standing lake v. 351 While, Strephon ! thus you tease IX. 1 28 Index of First Lines, Vols. /— X PAGE While the two contraries of V. 298 While you, my Lord! the rural VIII. 38 Whilst Beauty, Youth, and gay vii. 214 Whilst Fisher cast his line, the . ill. 108 W^hilst I am scorched with hot vii. 216 White though ye be; yet, Lilies VI. 131 W^ho can blame me, if I love? ... V. 88 Who can live in heart so glad... iv. 72 Who can resist my Celia's vil. 296 Who climbethtoo high, perforce ll. 290 Who comes there ? Standi Vli. 171 Who dares talk of hours ! Seize X. 1 37 Who doth desire that chaste his III. 208 Whoe'er She be ! VI. i6c Whoever comes to shroud me ; do v. 97 W^ho ever saw a noble sight ... Vii. 3 Who has e'er been at Baldock... ix. 197 Who hath heard of such cruelty II. 9 Who is at ease, when both are... 11. 225 WhoisSilvial What is she iv. 10 Who liveth so merry, in all this in. 64 Whoso list to hunt, I know where II. 3 Whoso list to love i. 118 Whoso to marry a minion Wife III. 50 Who taught thee first to sigh ... IV. 48 Who thirsts for more knowledge X. 104 Why are those charms by viii. 205 Why art thou slow, thou rest of V. 127 Why asks my friend. What cheers IX. 270 Why boast your strength at X. 161 Why, Celia! should yon so... vill. 298 Why, Cloris! should you on... vil. 36 Why, Damon! why, why, why vili. 50 ' Why, Delia ! ever when I gaze IX. 211 Why dost thou, all address vi. 292 Why do ye weep, sweet babes? vi. 123 Why fear' st thou, Damon ! 1... vii. 198 Why, lovely Charmer! tell me Vlii. 62 Why, Shepherd, there's the vi. 42 Why should a heart so tender vill. 241 'Why should those eyes vili. 251 Why should you swear, I am ... VI. 96 Why 's my friend so melancholy? VI. 262 PAGE Why so pale and wan ? fond V. 285 Why this talking still of dying? Vli. 296 Why was Cupid a boy X. 144 Why weeps my Sylvia ? Prithee vil. 282 W' hy we love, and why we hate Viii. 106 W'hy will Delia thus retire ... viii. 144 'Why, William ! on that old grey x. 178 Widow, well met ! Whither go iv. 27 Will you hear a Spanish Lady... iv. 108 Willy, prithee, go to bed ! iv. 192 Winter! thy cruelty extend ... vii. 131 With amorous wiles and vil. loi With an honest old friend, and vill. 268 With an old Song, made by an ... v. 31 With a whip of lilies. Love VI. 76 With downcast eyes and folded vill. 231 With fragrant flowers, we strew in. 166 With heart as trembling as the .. . i. 80 With her in arms, that had my . III. 132 With how sad steps, 0,Moon !. III. 208 Within this tomb, a Patriot lies vi. 196 With my frailty, don't upbraid viii. 58 Without preamble, to my friend ix. 217 With what sharp checks I, in... ill. 210 With Women and Wine, I defy... X. 114 Wit, Love, and Reputation ix. 250 ' Woman ! thoughtless, giddy viil. 230 Would my Delia know, if I love ? x. 14 Would you, with her you love be IX. 73 Wrapped in my careless cloak, as II. 63 Wretched and foolish Jealousy ! V. 3 Wrong me no more ! VI. 77 Wrong not, sweet Empress of my V. 109 Wyattresteth here, that quick... II. 49 Yea, and a good cause, why ... III. 60 Ye are too much as in my debt... 1. 135 Ye banks and braes 0' bonie Doon x. 59 Ye Belles ! and ye Flirts ! and ye IX. 149 Ye blushing Virgms happy are... v. 19S 335 Index of First Lines, Vols. I — X. PAGE Ye buds of Brutus' land iii. 149 Ye cheerful Virgins! haveyeseen IX. 298 ' Ye dainty Nymphs ! that in this in. 43 Ye distant spires, ye antique ... ix. 82 Ye fair married Dames I whoso IX. 184 Ye happy Swains, whose hearts VII. 143 Ye have been fresh and green !... VI. 126 Ye Highlands, and ye Lawlands ! iv. 179 Ye little birds, that sit and sing iv. 295 Ye little Loves ! that round her X. 49 Ye living Lamps ! by whose ... Vll. 96 YeMaids, who Britain's Court... ix. 227 Ye patriot crowds, who bum for IX. 116 Ye Poets ragged and forlorn... vili. 210 Yes ! Fulvia is like Venus fair ! IX. 49 ' Ye Shepherds and Nymphs... viii. 198 ' Ye Shepherds of this pleasant viii. 196 Yes, I'm in love! I feel it now . IX. 152 Yet once more, O, ye laurels ... vi. 3 Ye Virgin Powers ! defend my . vii. 150 Ye Warwickshire Lads, and ye... IX. 191 Ye wha are fain to hae your name IX. 286 You are a Tulip, seen to-day... vi. 121 You ask, my friend! Howlcan viii. 136 You boast, that you are beautiful vi. 224 You, brave heroic minds iv. 262 PAGE You, Gentlemen of England ... vii. 165 You, gentle Nymphs! that on... v. 76 You know that our ancient x. 52 You, Ladies fair! VI. 223 You little know the heart, that viii. 146 You'll ask, perhaps, Wherefore vi. 344 You, Lovers I love on ! VII. 221 You, meaner Beauties of the night v. 129 Young Chrysostorae had virtue vii. 374 YonngColin.fishingneartheMill ix. 268 Young Colin protests, I'm his joy IX. iio Young Damon was whistling X. 115 Young Daphne was the prettiest IX. 108 Young Strephon, by his folded Vlll. 156 Your mouth, it saith me, ' Bas me! I. 125 You say, 'Tis Love creates the vii. 222 You say. You love ! Repeat... Vll. 354 You spotted snakes with double IV. 10 You tell me, Celia! yon vii. 336 ' You tell me, I'm handsome, I IX. 130 You that choose not by the view IV. 6 You, that embrace enchanting... IV. 83 You that think Love can convey v. 315 Youth 's the season made for... Vlll. 170 You understand no tender vows vii. 227 You, Virgins, that did late despair v. 196 Oxford: horacb hart, printer to the university. BRITISH ANTHOLOGIES. Vol. I. T/ie Dunbar Anthology. 1401-1508 A.D. II. The Surrey and Wyatt Anthology. 1509-1547 a.d. III. The Spenser Anthology. 1548-1591 a.d. IV. 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