General Books

CANTO XXIX SO were mine eyes inebriate with viewOf the vast multitude, whom various woundsDisfigur'd, that they long'd to stay and weep. But Virgil rous'd me: "What yet gazest on?Wherefore doth fasten yet thy sight belowAmong the maim'd and miserable shades?Thou hast not shewn in any chasm besideThis weakness.  Know, if thou wouldst number themThat two and twenty miles the... more...

Some do endyte / vpon good moralyte Of chyualrous actes / done in antyquyte Whose fables and storyes ben pastymes pleasaunt To lordes and ladyes / as is theyr lykynge Dyuers to moralyte / ben oft attendaunt And many delyte to rede of louynge Youth loueth aduenture / pleasure and lykynge Aege foloweth polycy / sadnesse and prudence Thus they do dyffre / eche in experyence I lytell or nought / experte in... more...

RETROSPECTION.I'd wandered, for a week or more,Through hills, and dells, and doleful green'ry,Lodging at any carnal door,Sustaining life on pork, and scenery.A weary scribe, I'd just let slipMy collar, for a short vacation,And started on a walking trip,That cheapest form of dissipation—And vilest, Oh! confess my pen,That I, prosaic, rather hate your"Ode to a Sky-lark" sort of... more...

THE AULD DOCTOR. O' a' the jobs that sweat the sarkGie me a kintra doctor's wark,Ye ca' awa' frae dawn till dark,Whate'er the weather be, O! Some tinkler wife is in the strae,Your boots are owre the taps wi' clayThrough wadin' bog an' sklimmin' braeThe besom for to see, O! Ye ken auld Jock o' Windybarns?The bull had near ca'ed oot his... more...

PREFACE. The original, of which this is a translation, is universally considered one of the very best among many beautiful poems written by the same illustrious author. The sublime didactic thoughts therein expressed, in language majestic and yet so simple, have won for it a constantly increasing popularity; and, during half a century, in a language so rich in literary beauties as the Swedish, have... more...

APPLES so round, and bright, and red—O, how I love to see;They look so tempting as they hangUpon the green old tree. A naughty boy once tried to stealFrom off his neighbor's bough;But sad to hear, adown he fell,And is a cripple now.   BOYS oftentimes are rough and rude,And join in wicked play;But hoop and top, and bat and ball,Are better any day. "Hark! hark! I hear a tinkling bell;It... more...

CANTO VII "AH me! O Satan! Satan!" loud exclaim'dPlutus, in accent hoarse of wild alarm:And the kind sage, whom no event surpris'd,To comfort me thus spake: "Let not thy fearHarm thee, for power in him, be sure, is noneTo hinder down this rock thy safe descent."Then to that sworn lip turning, "Peace!"  he cried, "Curs'd wolf! thy fury inward on thyselfPrey,... more...

INTRODUCTION WILLIAM CORY (Johnson) was born at Torrington in Devonshire, on January 9, 1823. He was the son of Charles William Johnson, a merchant, who retired at the early age of thirty, with a modest competence, and married his cousin, Theresa Furse, of Halsdon, near Torrington, to whom he had long been attached. He lived a quiet, upright, peaceable life at Torrington, content with little, and... more...

Foreword I've tinkered at my bits of rhymesIn weary, woeful, waiting times;In doleful hours of battle-din,Ere yet they brought the wounded in;Through vigils of the fateful night,In lousy barns by candle-light;In dug-outs, sagging and aflood,On stretchers stiff and bleared with blood;By ragged grove, by ruined road,By hearths accurst where Love abode;By broken altars, blackened shrinesI've... more...

In Spring,While softly cooedThe Dove, SamTold Selina ofHis Love. The Summer Moon smiled on them both,Selina plighted him her Troth. But Autumn brought a gayer Swain—Selina broke it off again. 'Tis Winter now—Selina's slack—She'd give her thumbs to have him back. Yet—When they metShe tossed her head; HeStared at her andCut her dead! But Fate at last to them was kind:It... more...