SOME wit, handsome form and gen'rous mind; A triple engine prove in love we find; By these the strongest fortresses are gained E'en rocks 'gainst such can never be sustained....
A certain maid, as proud as fair, A husband thought to find Exactly to her mind - Well-form'd and young, genteel in air, Not cold nor jealous; - mark this well. Whoe'er would wed this dainty belle...
The Text is from the Percy Folio MS. The only other known text is a fragment from Sir Walter Scott's recollection, printed in C. K. Sharpe's Ballad Book.
So look the mornings when the sun Paints them with fresh vermilion: So cherries blush, and Kathern pears, And apricots in youthful years: So corals look more lovely red, And rubies lately polished:...
Within a vale, each infant year, When earliest larks first carol free, To humble shepherds cloth appear A wondrous maiden, fair to see. Not born within that lowly place...
How sweet are Spring wild flowers! They grow past the counting. How sweet are the wood-paths that thread through the grove! But sweeter than all the wild flowers of the mountain...
She wandered so young on the shore around, Her thoughts were by naught on earth now bound. Soon came there a painter, his art he plied Above the tide, In shadow wide, -...
A certain damsel of considerable pride made up her mind to choose a husband who should be young, well-built, and handsome; of agreeable manners and - note these two points - neither cold nor jealous. Moreover, she held it neces...
The clouds fast gather, The forest-oaks roar A maiden is sitting Beside the green shore, The billows are breaking with might, with might, And she sighs aloud in the darkling night,...
Good-morning, sun, 'mid the leaves so green - Mind of youth in the dales' deep reaches, Smile that brightens their somber speeches, Heaven's gold on our earth-dust seen! ...
Of all the swains that meet at eve Upon the green to play, The shepherd is the lad for me, And I'll ne'er say him nay. Though father glowers beneath his hat, And mother talks of bed,...
Only you'd have me speak. Whether to speak Or whether to be silent is all one; Whether to sleep and in my dreaming front Her small scared face forlorn; whether to wake...
Rolling through the gloomy gorges, comes the roaring southern blast, With a sound of torrents flying, like a routed army, past, And, beneath the shaggy forelands, strange fantastic forms of surf...
Maid of Jerusalem, by the Dead Sea, I wandered all sorrowing thinking of thee,-- Thy city in ruins, thy kindred deplored, All fallen and lost by the Ottoman's sword. ...
I hear that maiden still Of Keinton Mandeville Singing, in flights that played As wind-wafts through us all, Till they made our mood a thrall To their aery rise and fall, "Should he upbraid." ...
That was the proud woman, Naaman's wife. Basking at noon under the Syrian fans, While Naaman, the leprous mighty captain, Proud glowing flesh now silver-skinned and tainted,...