Изображения страниц
PDF
EPUB

J. F. CLARKE (Trans.)
CHANNING

SHAKSPEARE
SHAKSPEARE
BYRON
TENNYSON

Remove yon skull from out the scattered heaps.

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky.

Rise up, rise up, Xarifa! lay the golden cushion down LOCKHART
Round my own pretty rose.

T. H. BAYLY
SHAKSPEARE

Royal Egypt! Empress

Rudolph, professor of the headsman's trade

O. W. HOLMES
GRAY

Rabia, sick upon her bed
Rambling along the marshes

Rashly, And praised be rashness for it
Reason thus with life

Ruin seize thee, ruthless king

Rumble thy belly full! spit fire! spout rain!
Run, shepherds, run where Bethlehem blest appears

[merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][ocr errors][ocr errors][ocr errors][merged small]
[blocks in formation]

140

37

521

161

171

192

447

35

521

503

215

102

190

519

144

219

47

38

73

193

208

433

446

273

75

59

462

439

467

126

186

203

44

181

500

71

94

258

441

78

84

227

476

518

294

434

417

34

149

87

328

339

15

147 441

87

157

32

196

444

181

63

441

190

42

130

198

73

415

282

283

The birds against the April wind
The breaking waves dashed high
The bush that has most briars and bitter fruit
The clouds are flying, the woods are sighing
The convent-bells are ringing

The curfew tolls the knell of parting day
The daughter of a king, how should I know?.
The despot's heel is on thy shore.

The destiny, minister general

The earth goes on, the earth glittering in gold
The færy beam upon you

The feathered songster Chanticleer

The flighty purpose never is o'ertook
The garlands wither on your brow

The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices

The gods be your terror.

The harp that once through Tara's halls
The house of Chivalry decayed
The king called his best archers

The king is full of grace and fair regard
The king is kind; and well we know
The king sits in Dunfermline town
The king was on his throne
The Lord descended from above

The melancholy days are come
The merry wo did on a day
The minstrels played their Christmas tune
The moon is up, and yet it is not night
The Moorish king rides up and down
The muse doth tell me where to borrow
The muse, nae poet ever fand her
The night is come like to the day.
The night is made for cooling shade.
The night is past and shines the sun
The old man said, "Take thou this shield, my son"

The old mayor climbed the belfry tower

The owl is abroad, the bat, the toad

There in the fane a beauteous creature stands

There is a history in all men's lives

There is a mystery in the soul of state
There is an island on a river lying
There is a pleasure in the pathless woods
There is a stream, I name not its name
There is a tide in the affairs of men
There is a Yew-tree, pride of Lorton Vale
There like a rich and golden pyramid
"There is no God," the wicked saith
There's a flag hangs over my threshold
There where death's brief pang was quickest.
There was a boy; ye knew him well, ye cliffs
There was a king that much might

There was a laughing devil in his sneer
There was a sound of revelry by night

There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream.

Ther is right at the West side of Itaille

The sea rolls vaguely, and the stars are dumb

The shadow on the dial's face

WHITTIER

MRS. HEMANS
JONES VERY

The sky is changed; and such a change

The snows arise; and foul and fierce
The spacious firmament on high
The spirits I have raised abandon me
The splendor falls on castle walls.
The stars above will make thee known
The tent-lights glimmer on the land
The unearthly voices ceased

The wanton troopers riding by

The weather leech of the topsail shivers.
The Wildgrave winds his bugle-horn
The wind it blew, and the ship it flew

ANONYMOUS (Trans.)

BYRON

GRAY

H. H.

J. R. RANDALL
CHAUCER.
ANONYMOUS.
BEN JONSON
T. CHATTERTON
SHAKSPEARE
JAMES SHIRLEY
SHAKSPEARE

GOETHE: TRANS. BY FROTH

INGHAM

MOORE

BEN JONSON
ANONYMOUS
SHAKSPEARE

SHAKSPEARE
ANONYMOUS
BYRON

STERNHOLD

BRYANT
HERBERT

WORDSWORTH

SIR T. BROWNE

J. T. TROWBRIDGE
BYRON

S. G. W

JEAN INGELOW

BEN JONSON
WHITTIER

The pines were dark on Rainoth hill

There are points from which we can command our life P. BAILEY
There came to Cameliard

TENNYSON

The recluse hermit ofttimes more doth know.

BYRON.
BYRON

GEORGE WITHER
BURNS

DONNE

PROF. WILSON (Trans.)
SHAKSPEARE .
SHAKSPEARE

[blocks in formation]
[merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors]

The wintry west extends his blast
The woods decay, the woods decay and fall.
They made her a grave too cold and damp
They told me I was heir: I turned in haste
They that never had the use

Think we King Harry strong.

This ae night, this ae night

This army led by a delicate and tender prince
This bright wood-fire

This castle hath a pleasant seat; the air
This knight a doughter hadde by his wif.
This morning, timely rapt with holy fire
Thou art not gone, being gone

dew

Thon blossom bright with autumn
Though the day of my destiny's over
Thou hast learned the woes of all the world
Thou hast sworn by thy God, my Jeannie
Thou hidden love of God! whose height
Thou that art our queen again

Thou that hast a daughter

Thou that hast given so much to me.

Thou wast not born for death, immortal bird!
Thou whose sweet youth and early hopes enhance
Three days through sapphire seas we sailed
Three poets in three distant ages born
Three score o' nobles rade up the king's ha'
Three years she grew in sun and shower
Thy braes were bonny, yarrow stream.
Thy voice is heard through rolling drums
Tiger! Tiger! burning bright

Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back.
Tired nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep.

'Tis madness to resist or blame

"Tis night, and the landscape is lovely no more

'Tis not every day that I

"Tis not in battles that from youth we train "Tis truth, although this truth's a star

To be furious

[blocks in formation]

Toiling in the naked fields

To keep the lamp alive

To me men are for what they are

Toll for the brave.

True bard and simple, as the race

Triumphal arch, that fill'st the sky

'Twas All-Souls' eve, and Surrey's heart beat high

'Twas at the royal feast for Persia won
Two went to pray-oh! rather say
Two voices are there; one is of the sea

[blocks in formation]

To the belfry one by one, went the ringers from the sun MRS. BROWNING
To the Lords of Convention

SCOTT
MOORE.

CAMPBELL
SCOTT

DRYDEN

RICHARD CRASHAW
WORDSWORTH

Wail for Dædalus, all that is fairest .

Walking thus towards a pleasant grove Warriors and chiefs! should the shaft or sword

Wee, modest, crimson, tipped flower Wee, sleekit, cow'ring, timorous beastie. Well, honor is the subject of my story.

We must not stint

Westward the course of empire takes its way. What is good for a bootless bené

What needs my Shakspeare for his honored bones

[ocr errors]

BURNS TENNYSON T. MOORE

H. H.

EDMUND WALLER

[ocr errors]

SHAKSPEARE SOUTHWELL SHAKSPEARE E. S. H. SHAKSPEARE CHAUCER. BEN JONSON DONNE BRYANT

BYRON

C. S. T..

A. CUNNINGHAM
WESLEY (Trans.).

LEIGH HUNT
W. ALLINGHAM
ᎻᎬᎡᏴᎬᎡᎢ .
KEATS
HERBERT

H. H. BROWNELL
DRYDEN.

SMITH'S SCOTTISH MINSTREL
WORDSWORTH

T. LOGAN

TENNYSON
W. BLAKE
SHAKSPEARE
YOUNG
MARVELL
BEATTIE

HERRICK

[ocr errors]

WORDSWORTH

PATMORE.

SHAKSPEARE

SHAKSPEARE

MILTON

SHAKSPEARE

COLLINS

PATMORE.

JOHN CLARE
COWPER

MILNES
COWPER

BEN JONSON

BEN JONSON SHAKSPEARE ANONYMOUS

BEN JONSON

MILTON

TENNYSON

STERLING.

LORD HERBERT

BYRON

BURNS.

BURNS

SHAKSPEARE
SHAKSPEARE

BERKELEY

WORDSWORTH

MILTON.

22

165

335

176

63

266

459

512

56 6 67

268

62

30

276

95

66

177

434

436

184

34

145

248

99

360

62

456

223

509

518

160

219

3

93

51

76

520

510

169

160

460

63

456

182

145

463

404

449

276

46

364

130

180

221

269

268

440

505

269

271

133

132

272

203

279

278

203

521

225

339

268

[blocks in formation]

You meaner beauties of the night

Young Jamie lo'ed me weel, and he sought me for his

bride

[blocks in formation]

Young Neuha plunged into the deep
Your grace shall pardon me
You that can look through Heaven, and tell the stars BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.

LADY ANNE LINDSAY
BYRON
SHAKSPEARE

Zekle crep' up quite unbeknown

LOWELL

24 9

484

172

440

280

184

312

144

269

271

86

86

445

128

457

212

512

44

510

127

483

185

93

487

463

70

440

41

504 9

272

37

518

33

196

195

286

162

154

321 5 322

510

28

59

349

162

48

146

447

148

221

458

64

167

168

512

467

254

66

383 378

207 155

494

[merged small][ocr errors][merged small]

19

63

83

40 95 562

438

181

[ocr errors][merged small][merged small]
[blocks in formation]
« ПредыдущаяПродолжить »