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 she sends. Sir Loumor... more...

When raging Love, with fierce assault,  Strikes at fair Beauties gate,What army hath she to resist  And keepe her court and state? She calleth first on Chastitie  To lende her help in time;And Prudence no lesse summons shee  To meet her foe so trim. And female Courage she alwaye  Doth bring unto the walle,To blowe the trump in her dismaye,  Fearing her fort may falle. On force of... more...

Queen Summeror the Tourneyof the Lily & the Rosepenned & portrayedby Walter Crane Cassell & Co: Ld: London: Paris: & Melbourne     When Summer on the earth was queenShe held her court in gardens greenFair hung with tapestry of leaves,Where threads of gold the sun enweavesWith checquered patterns on the floorOf velvet lawns the scythe smoothes o’er:Their waving fans the soft winds spreadEach way to... more...

NOCTURNE WRITTEN IN AN INDIAN GARDEN 'Where ignorance is bliss,'Tis folly to be wise.' The time-gun rolls his nerve-destroying bray;The toiling moon rides slowly o'er the trees;The weary diners cast their cares away,And seek the lawn for coolness and for ease. Now spreads the gathering stillness like a pall,And melancholy silence rules the scene,Save where the bugler sounds his homing call,And thirsty Thomas leaves the wet canteen; Save... more...

INTRODUCTION When a poem is read aloud it is easy to realize that poetry is closely related to music. Like music it awakens vague, mysterious feelings which cannot be expressed in ordinary speech; and the person who fails to catch the subtle melody of a poem gets but little from it even though he understands perfectly the meaning of the words. To illustrate this, put into commonplace prose a passage of beautiful verse,—for instance, lines... more...

MICHAEL A PASTORAL POEM   If from the public way you turn your steps  Up the tumultuous brook of Green-head Ghyll,  You will suppose that with an upright path  Your feet must struggle; in such bold ascent  The pastoral mountains front you, face to face.  But, courage! for around that boisterous brook  The mountains have all opened out themselves,  And made a hidden... more...

INTRODUCTION Professor Elizabeth Story Donno, in her recent Elizabethan Minor Epics (New York, 1963), has made an important contribution to both scholarship and teaching. Not only has she brought together for the first time in one volume most of the extant Elizabethan minor epics, but in so doing, she has hastened the recognition that the minor epic, or "epyllion" as it has often been called in modern times,[] is a distinctive literary genre as... more...

LES DEMOISELLES DE SAUVE TO S. A. S. ALICE, PRINCESSE DE MONACO Beautiful ladies through the orchard pass;Bend under crutched-up branches, forked and low;Trailing their samet palls o'er dew-drenched grass. Pale blossoms, looking on proud Jacqueline,Blush to the colour of her finger tips,And rosy knuckles, laced with yellow lace. High-crested Berthe discerns, with slant, clinched eyes,Amid the leaves pink faces of the skies;She locks her... more...

Select English Classics which the publishers have in course of preparation. The series will include an extensive variety of selections chosen from the different departments of English literature, and arranged and annotated for the use of classes in schools. It will embrace, among other things, representative specimens from all the best English writers, whether of poetry or of prose; selections from English dramatic literature, especially of the... more...

TAM I' THE KIRK O Jean, my Jean, when the bell ca's the congregationOwre valley an' hill wi' the ding frae its iron mou',When a'body's thochts is set on his ain salvation,  Mine's set on you. There's a reid rose lies on the Buik o' the Word 'afore yeThat was growin' braw on its bush at the keek o' day,But the lad that pu'd yon flower i' the mornin's glory,  He canna pray. He canna pray; but there's nane i' the kirk will... more...