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THE RETURN OF THE DEAD Swayne Dyring o’er to the island strayed;   And were I only young again!He wedded there a lovely maid—   To honied words we list so fain. Together they lived seven years and more;   And were I only young again!And seven fair babes to him she bore—   To honied words we list so fain. Then death arrived in luckless hour;   And were I only young again!Then died the... more...

The present Anthology is intended to serve as a companion volume to the Poetical Miscellanies published in England at the close of the sixteenth and the beginning of the seventeenth centuries. A few of the lyrics here collected are, it is true, included in “England’s Helicon,” Davison’s “Poetical Rhapsody,” and “The Phœnix’ Nest”; and some are to be found in the modern collections of... more...

PROUD SIGNILD. Proud Signild’s bold brothers have taken her hand,They’ve wedded her into a far distant land. They’ve wedded her far from her own native land,To her father’s foul murderer gave they her hand. And so for eight winters the matter it stood,Their face for eight winters she never once view’d. Proud Signild she brews, and the ruddy wine blends;To her brothers so courteous a bidding... more...

CHAP. I. What a Poet and Poesie is, and who may be worthily sayd the most excellent Poet of our time. A Poet is as much to say as a maker. And our English name well conformes with the Greeke word: for of [Greek: poiein] to make, they call a maker Poeta. Such as (by way of resemblance and reuerently) we may say of God: who without any trauell to his diuine imagination, made all the world of nought, nor... more...

THE KING’S WAKE To-night is the night that the wake they hold,To the wake repair both young and old. Proud Signelil she her mother address’d:“May I go watch along with the rest?” “O what at the wake wouldst do my dear?Thou’st neither sister nor brother there. “Nor brother-in-law to protect thy youth,To the wake thou must not go forsooth. “There be the King and his warriors gay,If me... more...

VERSE: A LEGEND OF PROVENCE The lights extinguished, by the hearth I leant,Half weary with a listless discontent.The flickering giant-shadows, gathering near,Closed round me with a dim and silent fear.All dull, all dark; save when the leaping flame,Glancing, lit up a Picture’s ancient frame.Above the hearth it hung.  Perhaps the night,My foolish tremors, or the gleaming light,Lent power to that... more...

THE FROZEN BIRD.See, see, what a sweet little prize I have found!A Robin that lay half-benumbed on the ground:Well hous’d and well fed, in your cage you will sing,And make our dull winter as gay as the spring.But stay,—sure ’tis cruel, with wings made to soar,To be shut up in prison, and never fly more—And I, who so often have long’d for a flight,Shall I keep you prisoner?—mamma, is that... more...

A HYMN OF EMPIRE (Coronation Year, 1911) God save England, blessed by Fate,So old, yet ever young:The acorn isle from which the greatImperial oak has sprung!And God guard Scotland's kindly soil,The land of stream and glen,The granite mother that has bredA breed of granite men! God save Wales, from Snowdon's valesTo Severn's silver strand!For all the grace of that old raceStill haunts the... more...

INTRODUCTION TO The Modern Gaelic Minstrelsy. The suspicion which arose in regard to the authenticity of Ossian, subsequent to his appearance in the pages of Macpherson, has unjustly excited a misgiving respecting the entire poetry of the Gael. With reference to the elder poetry of the Highlands, it has now been established that at the period of the Reformation, the natives were engrossed with the lays... more...

TO HOPE.Oh! take, young Seraph, take thy harp,And play to me so cheerily;For grief is dark, and care is sharp,And life wears on so wearily.Oh! take thy harp!Oh! sing as thou wert wont to do,When, all youth's sunny season long,I sat and listened to thy song,And yet 'twas ever, ever new,With magic in its heaven-tuned string—The future bliss thy constant theme.Oh! then each little woe took... more...