Where are those days, O Caledon, So glorious and bright, In which thy star resplendent shone With passing lustrous light? Alas! alas! those happier days Are shrouded in the past,...
Joy, how I sought thee! Silver I spent and gold, On the pleasures of this world, In splendid garments clad; The wine I drank was sweet, Rich morsels I did eat, Oh, but my life was sad!...
Oh, for a kindling touch from that pure flame Which ministered, erewhile, to a sacrifice Of gratitude, beneath Italian skies, In words like these: 'Up, Voice of song! proclaim...
The Text is from Motherwell's Minstrelsy (1827). It is based on a stall-copy, presumably similar to one preserved by Sir Walter Scott at Abbotsford, combined with a version from recitation, which Child none the less calls 'well...
True type of all, from his own father's hand He caught the fire; and, though he carried it far Into new regions; and, from southern fields Of yellow lupin, added host on host...
WHEN Sister Jane, who had produced a child, In prayer and penance all her hours beguiled Her sister-nuns around the lattice pressed; On which the abbess thus her flock addressed:...
I thought the deacon liked me, yit I warn't adzackly shore of it - Fer, mind ye, time and time agin, When jiners 'ud be comin' in, I'd seed him shakin' hands as free With all the sistern as with me!...
"Am I sipping the honey of the lips? Am I drunk with the wine of a kiss? Have I culled the flowers of the cheek, Have I sucked the fresh fragrance of the breath?...
The sun has kissed the violet sea, And burned the violet to a rose. O Sea! wouldst thou not better be Mere violet still? Who knows? who knows? Well hides the violet in the wood:...
See yon opening flower Spreads its fragrance to the blast; It fades within an hour, Its decay is pale - is fast. Paler is yon maiden; Faster is her heart's decay; Deep with sorrow laden,...
Had I been young I could have claimed to fold thee For many days against my eager breast; But, as things are, how can I hope to hold thee Once thou hast wakened from this fleeting rest? ...
What state of life can be so blest As love, that warms a lover's breast? Two souls in one, the same desire To grant the bliss, and to require! But if in heaven a hell we find, 'Tis all from thee,...