Cyrus Cambyses Son of Persia King, Whom Lady Mandana did to him bring, She daughter unto great Astiages, He in descent the seventh from Arbaces. Cambyses was of Achemenes race,...
Warrior of the youthful brow, Eager heart and eagle eye! Pants thy soul for battle now? Burns thy glance with victory? Dost thou dream of conflicts done, Perils past and trophies won?...
These little Songs, Found here and there, Floating in air By forest and lea, Or hill-side heather, In houses and throngs, Or down by the sea, Have come together, How, I can't tell:...
Ho! thou who seekest late and long A License from the Holy Book For brutal lust and fiendish wrong, Man of the Pulpit, look! Lift up those cold and atheist eyes, This ripe fruit of thy teaching see;...
An apple caused man's fall, as some believe; But that old Snake, malevolently wise, A deadlier snare set when he left to Eve His tongue of honey and mesmeric eyes.
There's a face that beclouds like a shadow my pathway at morn and eve, There's a form that glides before me which my eyes can never leave, When I pore above the hearth and heavy thoughts my bosom fill,...
Whence comest thou? shady lane, and why and how? Thou, where with idle heart, ten years ago, I wandered, and with childhood's paces slow So long unthought of, and remembered now!...
The Fable 'sop tells is nearly this: - A shepherd from his flock began to miss, And long'd to catch the stealer of, his sheep. Before a cavern, dark and deep, Where wolves retired by day to sleep,...
Of fables judge not by their face; They give the simplest brute a teacher's place. Bare precepts were inert and tedious things; The story gives them life and wings....
Who pipes upon the long green hill, Where meadow grass is deep? The white lamb bleats but followeth on - Follow the clean white sheep. The dear white lady in yon high tower,...
The Shepherd, looking eastward, softly said "Bright is thy veil, O Moon, as thou art bright!" Forthwith, that little cloud, in ether spread And penetrated all with tender light,...
Abune the hill ae muckle star is burnin', Sae saft an' still, my dear, sae far awa, There's ne'er a wind, noo day to nicht is turnin', To lift the brainches o' the whisperin' shaw;...
Sick in his den, we understand, The king of beasts sent out command That of his vassals every sort Should send some deputies to court - With promise well to treat Each deputy and suite;...
The sky is an immortal tent built by the Sons of Los: And every space that a man views around his dwelling-place Standing on his own roof or in his garden on a mount...
Precisely. I see it. You all want to say That a tear is too sad and a laugh is too gay; You could stand a faint smile, you could manage a sigh, But you value your ribs, and you don't want to cry. ...