Maid of Athens, ere we part.
Maid of my love, sweet Genevieve
Martial, the things that do attain
Mary, I believed thee true

Meanwhile, the adversary of God and man
Memory, hither come

Men are but children of a larger growth
Methought I saw my late espoused saint
Mild offspring of a dark and sullen sire!
Milton! thou shouldst be living at this hour
Mine be a cot beside the hill.

Money that, like the swords of kings
Moon of harvest, herald mild
Mortality behold and fear!

Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors
Mourn, helpless Caledonia, mourn.

Much have I travelled in the realms of gold
Must all tradition then be set aside?

My author and disposer, what thou bid'st
My baby is sleeping overhead
My days among the dead are pass'd
My eye, descending from the hill, surveys
My eyes make pictures when they're shut
My Fair, no beauty of thine will last
My good blade carves the casques of men
My hair is gray, but not with years
"My hawk is tired of perch and hood

My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My little love, do you remember .

My loved, my honoured, much respected friend!
My mind to me a kingdom is

My pensive Sara! thy soft cheek reclined
My Phillis hath the morning Sun

My silks and fine array

My soul turn from them; -- turn we to survey
Mysterious Night! when our first parent knew

Nay, do not think I flatter

Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled
Never any more

Night is the Sabbath of mankind

No coward soul is mine

No man has more contempt than I of breath

No more shall the meads be deck'd with flowers

No, no, fair heretic, it needs must be

No sooner had the Almighty ceased, but all
No stir in the air, no stir in the sea
No, 'tis slander

None are all evil-quickening round his heart
None remember thee! thou whose heart.
Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note
Not far advanced was morning day

Not to know vice at all, and keep true state

Not with more glories, in th' ethereal plain

Now came still Evening on, and Twilight gray

Now, fare-thee-well, England: no further I'll roam

Now glory to the Lord of hosts, from whom all glories are
Now is the winter of our discontent

John Milton

Bryan Waller Procter

William Wordsworth

William Shakespeare
Mark Akenside

O blithe new-comer! I have heard

"O brightest of my children dear, earth-born
O Brignall banks are wild and fair

O force of faith! O strength of virtuous will!
O God! methinks it were a happy life

O God, whose thunder shakes the sky
O Happiness! our being's end and aim!
O Hearkener to the loud-clapping shears
O, it is hard to work for God.

O lay thy hand in mine, dear!

O listen, listen, ladies gay!

"O Love, come back, across the weary way

O! love of loves! -to thy white hand is given

O lovely Mary Donnelly, it's you I love the best!

O lovers' eyes are sharp to see

O Mary, at thy window be

O may I join the choir invisible

O my Luve's like a red, red rose

O Nightingale, that on yon bloomy spray

O now, for ever

O only Source of all our light and life

"O open the door, some pity to show

O rose who dares to name thee?

O Sandy, why leaves thou thy Nelly to mourn?
O saw you not fair Ines?

O so drowsy! In a daze

"O Swallow, Swallow, flying, flying South
O, those little, those little blue shoes!

O'thou, that, with surpassing glory crown'd
O! thou undaunted daughter of desires
O Thou who dry'st the mourner's tear!
O thou, who sit'st a smiling bride

O Time, who knowest a lenient hand to lay
O unseen Spirit! now a calm divine

O were my love yon lilac fair

O! wherefore come ye forth in triumph from the North

O, why should the spirit of mortal be proud?

O wild West Wind, thou breath of autumn's being

O world! O life! O time!

"O ye wild groves, O where is now your bloom!

O yet we trust that somehow good.

O young Lochinvar is come out of the west.

Oh! blame not the bard, if he fly to the bowers

Oh! breathe not his name, let it sleep in the shade

Oh! doubt me not the season

Oh fair to be, oh sweet to be

"Oh, Mary, go and call the cattle home"

Oh! may I live exempted (while I live)

Oh, no! we never mention him, his name is never heard

Oh Reader! hast thou ever stood to see

Oh Rome! my country! city of the soul!
"Oh seek not destin'd evils to divine"

Oh sleep! it is a gentle thing.

Oh! snatched away in beauty's bloom
Oh! that the desert were my dwelling-place

Oh, that those lips had language! Life has passed
Oh! the days are gone, when beauty bright.
Oh, thou Parnassus! whom I now survey
Oh! why left I my hame?

Obscurest night involved the sky

O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea.

O'er the level plains, where mountains greet me as I go

O'er the wide earth, on mountain and on plain .

Of a' the airts the wind can blaw

Sad happy race! soon raised and soon depressed
Sad is our youth, for it is ever going

Say, what is Honor? 'Tis the finest sense

Say, what is Taste, but the internal pow'rs
Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled

Seated one day at the organ

See, how the orient dew

See Lucifer like lightning fall

See through this air, this ocean, and this earth

Send home my long stray'd eyes to me
Shades of ev'ning close not o'er us.
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Shall I, wasting in despair

She dwelt among the untrodden ways.

She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps
She is not fair to outward view

.

She looks upon his lips, and they are pale

She rose she sprung-she clung to his embrace
She saw a sun on a summer sky

She sleeps amongst her pillows soft

She stood breast high amid the corn

She walks in beauty, like the night

She was a creature framed by love divine
She was a phantom of delight

She was a Queen of noble Nature's crowning
She's gone to dwell in heaven, my lassie.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot
Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more.
Signior Antonio, many a time and oft

Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea

Since our Country, our God-oh, my sire!

Since there's no help, come let us kiss and part
Sing the old song, amid the sounds dispersing
Sing them upon the sunny hills

Sleep, baby, sleep! what ails my dear
Sleep, little baby, sleep!

Sleep on, my mother! sweet and innocent dreams

Slow sinks, more lovely ere his race be run
So all day long the noise of battle roll'd

So dear to Heav'n is saintly chastity
So ended Saturn; and the God of the Sea

82

316

The castled crag of Drachenfels .

Joanna Baillie

George Gordon, Lord Byron

The lopped tree in time may grow again.
The Lord my pasture shall prepare
The lovely purple of the noon's bestowing
The matron at her mirror, with her hand upon
The midges dance aboon the burn
The mind that broods o'er guilty woes
The Minstrel-boy to the war is gone

The Chough and Crow to roost are gone.

The curfew tolls the knell of parting day

The dead abide with us! Though stark and cold
The evening weather was so bright and clear
The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew
The fountains mingle with the river
The glories of our birth and state
The gowan glitters on the sward

The half-seen memories of childish days
The harp that once through Tara's halls
The harp the monarch minstrel swept
The heart of man, walk it which way it will
The hours are passing slow

The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece!
The keener tempests come: and fuming dun
The King had deem'd the maiden bright.
The lake is calm; and, calm, the skies
The lawns are bright, the paths are wide
The lifelong day Lord Marmion rode
The little flow'rs dropping their honey'd dew
The longer life the more offence.

Andrew Lang.

Joanna Baillie

Thomas Gray

Mathilde Blind

John Keats

Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Percy Bysshe Shelley

James Shirley

Joanna Baillie

Aubrey Thomas De Vere.

Thomas Moore

George Gordon, Lord Byron
Sir Henry Taylor

George Gordon, Lord Byron