What time the poet hath hymned The writhing maid, lithe-limbed, Quivering on amaranthine asphodel, How can he paint her woes, Knowing, as well he knows, That all can be set right with calomel? ...
Lament in rhyme, lament in prose, Wi' saut tears trickling down your nose; Our bardie's fate is at a close, Past a' remead; The last sad cape-stane of his woes; Poor Mailie's dead. ...
In desultory walk through orchard grounds, Or some deep chestnut grove, oft have I paused The while a Thrush, urged rather than restrained By gusts of vernal storm, attuned his song...
These flags of armies overthrown - Flags fallen beneath the sovereign one In end foredoomed which closes war; We here, the captors, lay before The altar which of right claims all -...
Silent yet fiercely the battle is raging; Blood is not flowing, but poison is spread; Freedom and slavery madly are waging A war that will last till its cause shall be dead. ...
In the year Seventeen Hundred and Seventy and Three, When the GEORGES were ruling o'er Britain the free, There was played a new play, on a new-fashioned plan,...
Great cry, and little wool - is now become The plague and proverb of the weaver's loom; No wool to work on, neither weft nor warp; Their pockets empty, and their stomachs sharp....
The lights blaze high in our brilliant rooms; Fair are the maidens who throng our halls; Soft, through the warm and perfumed air, The languid music swells and falls. The "Seventh" dances and flirts to-night...
Providential escape of Ruby and Neil McLeod, children of Angus McLeod of this town. Little Neil McKay McLeod, a child of three years of age, was carried under a covered raceway, upwards of one hundred yards, the whole distance ...
Pure element of waters! wheresoe'er Thou dost forsake thy subterranean haunts, Green herbs, bright flowers, and berry-bearing plants, Rise into life and in thy train appear:...
My hands were stained with blood, my heart was proud and cold, My soul is black with shame . . . but I gave Shakespeare gold. So after aeons of flame, I may, by grace of God,...
Espion aile de la jeune amante De l'ombre des palmiers pourquoi ce cri? Laisse en paix le beau garcon plaider et vaincre - Pourquoi, pourquoi demander 'Qu'est qu'il dit?' ...
I. Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be, The last of life, for which the first was made: Our times are in His hand Who saith 'A whole I planned,...
The Radiant Rulers of Mystic Regions Where souls of artists are fitted for birth Gathered together their lovely legions And fashioned a woman to shine on earth. They bathed her in splendour,...
The imperial Stature, the colossal stride, Are yet before me; yet do I behold The broad full visage, chest of amplest mould, The vestments 'broidered with barbaric pride:...
Just as the even-bell rang, we set out To wander the fields and the meadows about; And the first thing we mark'd that was lovely to view, Was the sun hung on nothing, just bidding adieu:...