Page images


[blocks in formation]

A city clerk, but gently born and bred, 152.
Acı first, this Earth, a stage so gloom'd with

woe, 812,
Ah God! the petty fools of rhyme, 232.
Airy, fairy Lilian, 6.

All along the valley, stream that flashest white,
Along this glimmering gallery, 875,
Altho' I be the basest of mankind, 83.
And Willy, my eldest born, is gone, you say,

little Anne? 220.
A plague upon the people sell, 232.
Are those the far-famed Victor Hours, 877.
Are you sleeping? have you forgotten? do not

sleep, my sister dear! 540.
A spirit haunts the year's last hours, 12.
A still small voice spake unto me, 30.
A storm was coming, but the winds were still, 373.
As when with downcast eyes we muse and brood,

At Flores in the Azores Sir Richard Grenville
At Francis Allen's on the Christmas Eve, 66.
Athelstan King, 523.
A thousand summers ere the time of Christ, 536.
At times our Britain cannot rest, 781.
A Voice spake out of the skies, 867.

DAGONET, the fool, whom Gawain in his mood,

Dainty little maiden, whither would

you wander?
Dead, 559.
Dead Princess, living Power, if that, which lived,

Dear Master in our classic town, 851.
Dear, near and true — no truer Time himself, 235.
Deep on the convent-roof the snows, 107.
Dosn't thou 'ear my 'erse's legs, as they canters

awaäy: 225.
Doubt no longer that the Highest is the wisest

and the best, 868.
Dust are our frames; and, gilded dust, our pride,


(lay, 497

BANNER of England, not for a season, O banner

of Britain, hast thou, 509.
Beat, little heart - I give you this and this,' 807.
Beautiful city, the centre and crater,
Below the thunders of the upper deep, 5.
Be thou a-gawin' to the long barn, 756
Bold Havelock marched, 877.
Break, break, break, 121.

(best, 522.
Brooks, for they call’d, you so that knew you
Bury the Great Duke, 212.

EH? good daäy! good daäy! thaw it bean't not

Caress'p or chidden by the slender hand, 25,
Chains, my good lord: in your raised brows I

mooch of a daäy, 86o.
Elaine the fair, Elaine the lovable, 388.
Eyes not down-dropt nor over-bright, but fed, 6.
Faint as a climate-changing bird that flies, 783.
Fair is her cottage in its place, 230.
Fair things are slow to fade away, 783.
Farewell, Macready, since to-night we part,

Farewell, whose like on earth I shall not find,

Fifty times the rose has flower'd and faded, 782.
First pledge our Queen this solemn night, 562.
Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea, 116.
Flower in the crannied wall, 235.
From noiseful arms, and acts of prowess done, 410
Full knee-deep lies the winter snow, 60.

read, 514.
Clear-headed friend, whose joyful scorn, 8.
Clearly the blue river chimes in its flowing, 3.

Glory of warrior, glory of orator, glory of song,

Like souls that balance joy and pain, 115.
Live thy Life, 812.
Lo! there once more

this is the seventh nig
Long lines of cliff breaking have left a chasm, 12:
Love thou thy land, with love far-broughl 03.
Low flowing breezes are roarning the broad rat

ley dimm'd in the gloaming, 3.
Lucilia, wedded to Lucretius, found, 157.

MANY a hearth upon our dark globe sighs after

many a vanished face, 788.
Many, many welcomes, 812.
Mellow moon of heaven, 790.
Midnight -- in no midsummer tune, sár.
Milk for my sweet-arts, Bess! sur it mun be the

time about now, 545.
Mine be the strength of spirit, full and free, 24.
Minnie and Winnie, 231.
Move eastward, happy earth, and leave, 116.
My father left a park to me, 105.
My friend should meet me somewhere hereaboak,

My good blade carves the casques of mea, 107.
My heart is wasted with my woe, 17.
My hope and heart is with thee -- thou wilt be, 24.
My life is full of weary days, 23.
My Lords, we heard you speak: you told us all,

My Rosalind, my Rosalind, 21.
Mystery of mysteries, 20.

Näy, noä mander o' use to be callin' 'im Roa,

Roä, Roä, 785
Nature, so far as in her lies, 62.
Nightingales warbled without, 230.
Not here! the white North has thy bones; and

Golden-haired Ally whose name is one with mine,

Had the fierce ashes of some fiery peak, 853.
Half a league, half a league, 217.
Hallowed be Thy name

Halleluiah! 522.
He clasps the crag with crooked hands, 116.
• He is fled - I wish him dead, 797.
Helen's Tower, here I stand, 561.
Her arms across her breast she laid, 116.
Her, that yer Honour was spakin' to? Whin,

yer Honour? last year, 543.
Here, by this brook, we parted; I to the East, 136.
Here far away, seen from the topmost cliff, 467.
Here, it is here, the close of the year, 232.
He rose at dawn and, fired with hope, 230.
He that only rules by terror, 112.
He thought to quell the stubborn hearts of oak, 25.
Hide me, Mother! my Fathers belong'd to the

church of old, 530.
How long, O God, shall men be ridden dowi., 25.

I BUILT my soul a lordly pleasure-house, 43.
If I were loved, as I desire to be, 26.
I had a vision when the night was late, 117.
I hate the dreadful hollow behind the little wood,

I keep no more a lone distress, 876.
I knew an old wife lean and poor, 65.
Illyrian woodlands, echoing falls, 121.
I, loving Freedom for herself, 873.
I'm glad I walk'd. How fresh the meadows

look, 79.
In her ear he whispers gaily, 113.
I read, before my eyelids dropt their shade, 55.
I see the wealthy miller yet, 36.
I send you here a sort of allegory, 43.
Is it you, that preach'd in the chapel there look.

ing over the sand? 533.
It little profits that an idle king, 93.
It was the time when lilies blow, 111.
I waited for the train at Coventry, 101.
I was the chief of the race --- he had stricken my

father dead, 518.
I wish I were as in the years of old, 527.
KING ARTHur made new knights to fill the gap,

King, that hast reign'd six hundred years, and

thou, 526.
Not this way will you set your name, 557.
Now first we stand and understand, 865.
Now is done thy long day's work, 16.

grown, 526.

O BLACKBIRD! sing me something well, 60
O bridesmaid, ere the happy knot was tied, 26.
Enone sat within the cave from out, 351.
Of love that never found his earthly close, o
Of old sat Freedom on the heights, 63.
O God! my God! have mercy now, 3.
O Lady Flora, let me speak, 102.
Old Fitz, who from your suburb grange, 5.
Old poets foster'd under friendlier skies, sós,
O Love, Love, Love! () withering might: zó.
O love, what hours were thine and minc, 227.
O loyal to the royal in thyself, 466.
O me, my pleasant rambles by the lake, &r.
O mighty-mouth'd inventor of barmonies, 23.
On a midnight in midwinter when all but the

winds were dead, 865.

LADY Clara Vere de Vere, 48.
Late, my grandson! half the morning have I

paced these sandy tracts, 548.
Leodogran, the King of Cameliard, 303.
Life and thought have gone away, 15.
Lise of the Life within my blood, 873.
Light of the nations' ask'd his Chronicler, 855.

Once in a golden hour, 230.
Once more the gate behind me falls, 86.
Once more the Heavenly Power, 560.
On either side the river lie, 27.
O Patriot Statesman, be thou wise to know, 562.
O plump head-waiter at The Cock, 108.

purblind race of miserable men, 347.
sweet pale Margaret, 20.

thou so fair in summers gone, 563.
( thou, that sendest out the man, 65.
Our birches yellowing and from each, 556.
Our doctor had call'd in another, I never had

seen him before, 507.
'Ouse-keeper sent tha my lass, fur New Squire

coon'd last night, 504.
Out of the deep, my child, out of the deep, 521.

well for him whose will is strong. 229.
you chorus of indolent reviewers, 238.

young Mariner, 806.
O you that were eyes and light to the King till

he past away, 526.

PELLAM the King, who held and lost with Lot,

Pine, beech and plane, oak, walnut, apricot,


QUEEN GUINEVERE had fled the court, and sat,


RALPH would fight in Edith's sight, 866.
Red of the Dawn! 864.
Revered, beloved you that hold, 1.
Roman Virgil, thou that singest, 558.
Rose, on this terrace fifty years ago, 812.
Row us out from Desenzano, to your Sirmione

row! 561.

SEA-KINGS' daughter from over the sea, 218.
Sir, do you see this dagger? nay, why do you

start aside? 859.
Sir Walter Vivian all a summer's day, 161.
Slow sail'd the weary mariners and saw, 14.
So all day long the noise of battle roll'd, 67.
So Hector spake; the Trojans roar'd applause,

So saying, light-foot Iris pass'd away, 525.
So, my lord, the Lady Giovanna, who hath been

away, 746.
So then our good Archbishop Theobald, 676.
Spring-flowers'! While you still delay to take,

That is his portrait painted by himself, 876.
That story which the bold Sir Bedivere, 458.
The bee buzz'd up in the heat, 867.
The brave Geraint, a knight of Arthur's court, 335.
The bridal garland falls upon the bier, 868.
"The Bull, the Fleece are cramm'd and not a

room, 78.
The charge of the gallant three hundred, the

Heavy Brigade! 556.
The form, the form alone is eloquent! 25.
The gleain of household sunshine ends, 867.
The groundflame of the crocus breaks the mould,

The last tall son of Lot and Bellicent, 311.
The lights and shadows fly! 239.
The Lord let the house of a brute to the soul of a

man, 810.
The North wind fall’n in the new-starred night,

The plain was grassy, wild and bare, 15.
The poet in a golden clime was born, 13.
The rain had fallen, the Poet arose, 121.
There is a sound of thunder afar, 866.
There lies a vale in Ida, lovelier, 39.
There on the top of the down, 851.
These lame hexameters the strong-wing'd music

of Homer! 237.
These roses for my Lady Marian, 814.
These to His Memory — since he held them dear,

The Son of him with whom we strove for power,
The sun, the moon, the stars, the seas, the hills

and the plains, 234.
The voice and the Peak, 234.
The winds, as at their hour of birth, 6.
The wind, that beats the mountain, blows, 61.
The woods decay, the woods decay and fall, 94.
They have left the doors ajar; and by their clash,

They rose to where their sovran eagle sails, 523.
They say some foreign powers have laid their

heads together, 877.
They wrought a work which Time reveres, 875.
This morning is the morning of the day, 71.
This thing, that thing is the rage, 867.
Those that of late had fleeted far and fast, 522.
Thou art not steep'd in golden languors, 8.
Thou may'st remember what I said, 873.
Tho' Sin too oft, when smitten by Thy rod, 867.
Thou third great Canning, stand among our best,

Thou who stealest fire, 11.
Thy dark eyes open'd not, 22.
Thy prayer was 'Light – more Light - while

Time shall last!' 562.
Thy tuwhits are lull'd, I wot, 9.
Two children in two neighbour villages, 18.
Two Suns of Love make day of human life, 563.

Stand back, keep a clear lane! 566.
Still on the tower stood the vane, 117.
Strong Son of God, immortal Love, 241.
• Summer is coming, summer is coming, 812.
Sunset and evening star, 869.
Sweet Emma Moreland of yonder town, 108.

[ocr errors]

ULYSSES, much-experienced man, 802.
Uplift a thousand voices full and sweet, 217.

Vex not thou the poet's mind, 14.
Victor in Drama, Victor in Romance, 523.

WaÄit till our Sally cooms in, fur thou mun a'

sights to tell, 494.
Wailing, wailing, wailing, the wind over land

and sea, 492.
Wait a little,' you say, you are sure it'll all

come right,' 490.
Wan Sculptor, weepest thou to take the cast, 26.
Warrior of God, man's friend and tyrant's foe, 562.
Warrior of God, whose strong right arm debased,

We left behind the painted buoy, 114.
Welcome, welcome, with one voice! 564.
Well, you shall have that song which Leonard

wrote, 91.
We move, the wheel must always move, 8u.
We were two daughters of one race, 43.
What am I doing, you say to me, 'wasting the

sweet summer hours'? 862.
What be those crown'd forms high over the sacred

fountain ? 810.
What sight so lured him thro' the fields he knew,

What time the mighty moon was gathering light,

Wheer asta beän saw long and meä liggin' 'cre

aloän? 223.

When cats run home and light is come, 9.
When from the terrors of Nature a people bare

fashion d and worship a Spirit of Evil, 503,
When the breeze of a joyful dawn blew free, ç.
When the dumb Hour, clothed in black, 868.
When will the stream be aweary of fiowing, 2.
Where Claribel low-lieth, 2,
Where is one that, born of woman, altogether car

escape, 865
While about the shore of Mona those Neronian

legionaries, 235.
While man and woman still are incomplete, 811
Whither, O whither, love, shall we go,' 231.
Who would be, 18.
Who would be, 19.
Why wail you, pretty plover? and what is it that

you sear? 798.
Will my tiny spark of being wholly vanish i

your deeps and heights? 868.
With a half-glance upon the sky, 13.
With blackest moss the flower-plots, 7.
With farmer Allan at the farm abode, 75.
With one black shadow at its feet, 29.

You ask me, why, tho' ill at ease, 63.
You make our faults too gross, and thence mal

tain, 812.
You might have won the Poet's name, 120.
You must wake and call me early, call me early,

mother dear, 49.
Young is the grief I entertain, 877,
You, you, if you shall fail to understand, 564.


Large Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, $1.75. Bound in morocco, extra, $4.00.


WORKS. With a New Portrait.

“ This latest edition of his works, which as a book is every way what a com plete, compact edition should be, and contains the only portrait we have ever seen which does his genius justice.” — N. Y. Mail and Express.


Edited by AUGUSTINE BIRRELL. In two volumes.
“An edition which in every point of excellence will satisfy the most fastidious




Edited, with Introduction, by J. DYKES CAMPBELL.


“ Contains some of the wisest and most melodious verse that this age has pro duced.” — Athenæum.


Edited by PROFESSOR DOWDEN. With Portrait.


With an Introduction by JOHN MORLEY, and Portrait. .

“Mr. Morley has seldom written anything fresher or more vigorous than the essay on Wordsworth which he has prefixed to Macmillan's new and admirable onevolume edition of the poet the only complete edition.” — Spectator.

“ The finest of all tributes to the memory of Wordsworth is a complete edition of his poetical works, printed in one volume, and sold at a few shillings. It runs to near a thousand pages, and is all that it need be in type and clearness of arrangement.

It stands midway between the éditions de luxe and the cheap typographical renderings of other classics of the English school. In a good binding it would do berfectly well for the library of a millionaire; in serviceable cloth it would make almost a library in itself for the student of humble means. It has a good bibliography of all the poet's writings, a catalogue of biographies, an index of first lines and a complete list of the poems in the order of their production year by year. Above all, it has an introduction from the pen of Mr. John Morley." Daily News.

« PreviousContinue »