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Sister Rosa: A Ballad
The death-bell beats!-- The mountain repeats The echoing sound of the knell; And the dark Monk now Wraps the cowl round his brow, As he sits in his lonely cell. And the cold hand of death Chills his
War
Ambition, power, and avarice, now have hurled Death, fate, and ruin, on a bleeding world. See! on yon heath what countless victims lie, Hark! what loud shrieks ascend through yonder sky; Tell then the
The Building of the Ship
"Build me straight, O worthy Master! Stanch and strong, a goodly vessel, That shall laugh at all disaster, And with wave and whirlwind wrestle!" The merchant's word Delighted the Master heard; For his
Epistle to Mr Jervas, With Mr Dryden's Translation of Fresnoy's 'art of Painting.'
This verse be thine, my friend, nor thou refuse This from no venal or ungrateful Muse. Whether thy hand strike out some free design, Where life awakes, and dawns at every line; Or blend in beauteous t
Morituri Salutamus: Poem for the Fiftieth Anniversary
Tempora labuntur, tacitisque senescimus annis, Et fugiunt freno non remorante dies. Ovid, Fastorum, Lib. vi. "O Cжsar, we who are about to die Salute you!" was the gladiators' cry In the arena, standi
Lines Written Among the Euganean Hills
OCTOBER, 1818. Many a green isle needs must be In the deep wide sea of Misery, Or the mariner, worn and wan, Never thus could voyage on-- Day and night, and night and day, Drifting on his dreary way,
Endymion: Book I
ENDYMION. A Poetic Romance. "THE STRETCHED METRE OF AN AN ANTIQUE SONG." INSCRIBED TO THE MEMORY OF THOMAS CHATTERTON. Book I A thing of beauty is a joy for ever: Its loveliness increases; it wi
The Peace-Pipe
On the Mountains of the Prairie, On the great Red Pipe-stone Quarry, Gitche Manito, the mighty, He the Master of Life, descending, On the red crags of the quarry Stood erect, and called the nations, C
Introduction To The Song Of Hiawatha
Should you ask me, whence these stories? Whence these legends and traditions, With the odors of the forest With the dew and damp of meadows, With the curling smoke of wigwams, With the rushing of grea
The Poet's Calendar
January Janus am I; oldest of potentates; Forward I look, and backward, and below I count, as god of avenues and gates, The years that through my portals come and go. I block the roads, and drift the
The Loss Of The Eurydice
Foundered March 24. 1878 1 The Eurydice—it concerned thee, O Lord: Three hundred souls, O alas! on board, Some asleep unawakened, all un- warned, eleven fathoms fallen
A Vision of the Sea
'Tis the terror of tempest. The rags of the sail Are flickering in ribbons within the fierce gale: From the stark night of vapours the dim rain is driven, And when lightning is loosed, like a deluge f
The Witch of Atlas
TO MARY (ON HER OBJECTING TO THE FOLLOWING POEM, UPON THE SCORE OF ITS CONTAINING NO HUMAN INTEREST). How, my dear Mary,--are you critic-bitten (For vipers kill, though dead) by some review, That yo
Epilogue to the Satires.
IN TWO DIALOGUES. DIALOGUE I. _Fr_. Not twice a twelvemonth you appear in print, And when it comes, the court see nothing in 't. You grow correct, that once with rapture writ, And are, besides, too
The Canterbury Tales. The Nun's Priest's Tale.
THE PROLOGUE. "Ho!" quoth the Knight, "good sir, no more of this; That ye have said is right enough, y-wis, And muche more; for little heaviness Is right enough to muche folk, I guess. I say for me,
310. Tam o’ Shanter: A Tale
WHEN chapman billies leave the street, And drouthy neibors, neibors, meet; As market days are wearing late, And folk begin to tak the gate, While we sit bousing at the nappy, An’ getting fou and unco
The Cyclops
A SATYRIC DRAMA TRANSLATED FROM THE GREEK OF EURIPIDES. SILENUS. ULYSSES. CHORUS OF SATYRS. THE CYCLOPS. SILENUS: O Bacchus, what a world of toil, both now And ere these limbs were overworn with age
Hervé Riel
On the sea and at the Hogue, sixteen hundred ninety two, Did the English fight the French,--woe to France! And, the thirty-first of May, helter-skelter thro' the blue. Like a crowd of frightened porpo
Epithalamion
YE learned sisters, which have oftentimes Beene to me ayding, others to adorne, Whom ye thought worthy of your gracefull rymes, That even the greatest did not greatly scorne To heare theyr names sung
The Englishman in Italy
Piano di Sorrento Fortù, Fortù, my beloved one, Sit here by my side, On my knees put up both little feet! I was sure, if I tried, I could make you laugh spite of Scirocco. Now
A Lover's Complaint
FROM off a hill whose concave womb reworded A plaintful story from a sistering vale, My spirits to attend this double voice accorded, And down I laid to list the sad-tuned tale; Ere long espied a fick
293. The Whistle: A Ballad
I SING of a Whistle, a Whistle of worth, I sing of a Whistle, the pride of the North. Was brought to the court of our good Scottish King, And long with this Whistle all Scotland shall ring. Old Loda
Saul
Said Abner, "At last thou art come! Ere I tell, ere thou speak. Kiss my cheek, wish me well!" Then I wished it, and did kiss his cheek. And he, "Since the King, O my friend, for thy countenance sent,
First Anniversary
Like the vain curlings of the watery maze, Which in smooth streams a sinking weight does raise, So Man, declining always, disappears In the weak circles of increasing years; And his short tumults of t