Fiction Books

POETIC SKETCHES ON THE DEATH OF LORD NELSON. Swift through the land while Fame transported flies,And shouts triumphant shake the illumin'd skies;Britannia, bending o'er her dauntless prows,With laurels thickening round her blazon'd brows,In joy dejected, sees her triumph crost,Exults in Victory won, but mourns the Victor lost.Immortal Nelson! still with fond amaze,Thy glorious deeds each... more...

THE FIRST BOOK.   Orleans was hush'd in sleep. Stretch'd on her couch  The delegated Maiden lay: with toil  Exhausted and sore anguish, soon she closed  Her heavy eye-lids; not reposing then,  For busy Phantasy, in other scenes  Awakened. Whether that superior powers,  By wise permission, prompt the midnight dream,  Instructing so the passive [1] faculty;  Or that the soul,... more...

THE FEAR OF DEATH. Thou! whose superior, and aspiring mindCan leave the weakness of thy sex behind;Above its follies, and its fears can rise,Quit the low earth, and gain the distant skies:Whom strength of soul and innocence have taughtTo think of death, nor shudder at the thought;Say! whence the dread, that can alike engageVain thoughtless youth, and deep-reflecting age;Can shake the feeble, and appal... more...

FOR ***   NO eyes shall see the poems that I write  For you; not even yours; but after long  Forgetful years have passed on our delight  Some hand may chance upon a dusty song   Of those fond days when every spoken word  Was sweet, and all the fleeting things unspoken  Yet sweeter, and the music half unheard  Murmured through forests as a charm unbroken.   It is the plain and ordinary... more...

YES, THE WEARY EARTH SHALL BRIGHTEN. Yes, the weary earth shall brighten—  Brighten in the perfect day,And the fields that now but whiten,  Golden glow beneath the ray!Slowly swelling in her bosom,  Long the precious seed has lain,—Soon shall come the perfect blossom,  Soon, the rich, abundant grain! Long has been the night of weeping,  But the morning dawns at length,And, the misty... more...

"WAKE UP, ENGLAND" Thou careless, awake!Thou peacemaker, fight!Stand, England, for honour,And God guard the Right! Thy mirth lay aside,Thy cavil and play:The foe is upon thee,And grave is the day. The monarch AmbitionHath harnessed his slaves;But the folk of the OceanAre free as the waves. For Peace thou art armedThy Freedom to hold:Thy Courage as iron,Thy Good-faith as gold. Through Fire, Air,... more...

THE FROST SPIRIT He comes,—he comes,—the Frost Spirit comesYou may trace his footsteps nowOn the naked woods and the blasted fields and thebrown hill's withered brow.He has smitten the leaves of the gray old treeswhere their pleasant green came forth,And the winds, which follow wherever he goes,have shaken them down to earth. He comes,—he comes,—the Frost Spirit comes!from the frozen... more...

INTRODUCTORY NOTE. Emile Verhaeren, remarkable among of the brilliant group of writers representing "Young Belgium," and one who has been recognized by the literary world of France as holding a foremost place among the lyric poets of the day was born at St. Amand, near Antwerp, in 1855. His childhood was passed on the banks of the Scheldt, in the midst of the wide-spreading Flemish plains, a... more...

In one of Rossetti's invaluable notes on poetry, he tells us that to him "the leading point about Coleridge's work is its human love." We may remember Coleridge's own words:   "To be beloved is all I need,  And whom I love, I love indeed." Yet love, though it is the word which he uses of himself, is not really what he himself meant when using it, but rather an... more...

BOSTON SICUT PATRIBUS, SIT DEUS NOBIS RALPH WALDO EMERSON [sidenote: Dec. 16, 1773] This poem was read in Faneuil Hall, on the Centennial Anniversary of the "Boston Tea-Party," at which a band of men disguised as Indians had quietly emptied into the sea the taxed tea-chests of three British ships.   The rocky nook with hill-tops three    Looked eastward from the farms,  And twice each... more...