Dark on their journey loured the gloomy day, Dark shall be light, 425. Dear John, I some time ago wrote to inform Death distant? - No, alas! he's ever with us, Death finds us mid our play-things-snatches Deeds are done on earth, 506. Dim burns the once bright star of Avenel, 457. Dire was his thought who first in poison steeped, Donald Caird 's come again, 440. Dust unto dust, 453. Dwellers of the mountain, rise, 461. Emblem of England's ancient faith, 417. Fair Brussels, thou art far behind, 363. Farewell to Mackenneth, great Earl of the Farewell to Northmaven, 460. Farewell to the land where the clouds love to Fathoms deep beneath the wave, 461. For all our men were very very merry, 473. - Fortune, you say, flies from us -She but circles, 493. Hail to thy cold and clouded beam, 239. Hark to the insult loud, the bitter sneer, 500. Harp of the North! that mouldering long hast Hawk and osprey screamed for joy, 382. He came - He strikes no coin, 't is true, but coins new He was a fellow in a peasant's garb, 502. He was a man Versed in the world as pilot in He was a son of Egypt, as he told me, 503. Hear what Highland Nora said, 427. Heaven knows its time; the bullet has its billet Heir lyeth John o' ye Girnell, 429. lows, 504. for that which fol Here has been such a stormy encounter, 492. Here lies the volume thou hast boldly sought Here lyes ane saint to prelates surly, 431. Here stand I tight and trim, 503. Here stands the victim - there the proud be- Here we have one head, 506. Here, youth, thy foot unbrace, 507. Hie away, hie away, 414. High deeds achieved of knightly fame, 449. -- High feasting was there there the gilded High o'er the eastern steep the sun is beaming, His talk was of another world - his bodements, I knew Anselmo. He was shrewd and prudent I'll give thee, good fellow, a twelvemonth or I'll walk on tiptoe; arm my eye with caution, I'm Madge of the country, I'm Madge of the I see thee yet, fair France - thou favored land, I strive like to the vessel in the tide-way, 499. If you fail honor here, 492. Ill fares the bark with tackle riven, 383. In awful ruins Etna thunders nigh, 491. In Madoc's tent the clarion sounds, 504. In some breasts passion lies concealed and silent, In the bonny cells of Bedlam, 441. In the wide pile, by others heeded not, 493. In the wild storm The seaman hews his mast In yon lone vale his early youth was bred, 495. ---- it not, 496. It comes- it wrings me in my parting hour, 504. 497. It is not texts will do it - Church artillery, 497. It is a time of danger, not of revel, 498. It was an English ladye bright, 76. It was Dunois, the young and brave, was bound Joy to the victors, the sons of old Aspen, 10. Late, when the autumn evening fell, 414. Let the proud salmon gorge the feathered hook, 501. Let those go see who will - I like it not, 493. Life hath its May, and all is mirthful then, 497. Lives there a strain whose sounds of mounting Look not thou on beauty's charming, 448. Look on my girdle- -on this thread of gold, 457. Lord William was born in gilded bower, 377. Love wakes and weeps, 464. Lo! where he lies embalmed in gore, 506. Macleod's wizard flag from the gray castle sal- Maiden whose sorrows wail the Living Dead, Many a fathom dark and deep, 456. March, march, Ettrick and Teviotdale, 453. Measurers of good and evil, 483. Menseful maiden ne'er should rise, 465. Merrily swim we, the moon shines bright, 453. Mid these wild scenes Enchantment waves her Mortal warp and mortal woof, 456. Mother darksome, Mother dread, 462. Must we then sheath our still victorious sword, My hawk is tired of perch and hood, 206. My tongue pads slowly under this new language, My wayward fate I needs must plain, 404. Nay, dally not with time, the wise man's trea- Nay, hear me, brother-I am elder, wiser, 497. Nearest of blood should still be next in love, Necessity-thou best of peace-makers, 502. 502. Norman saw on English oak, 450. Not faster yonder rowers' might, 164. Not serve two masters? - Here's a youth will Not the wild billow, when it breaks its barrier, November's hail-cloud drifts away, 449. Now bid the steeple rock-she comes, she Now, by Our Lady, Sheriff, 't is hard reckoning, Now choose thee, gallant, betwixt wealth and Now fare thee well, my master, if true service, Now God be good to me in this wild pilgrimage, Now, hoist the anchor, mates - and let the sails, 502. Now let us sit in conclave. That these weeds, Now on my faith this gear is all entangled, 497. O ay! the Monks, the Monks, they did the O, Brignall banks are wild and fair, 250. O for a draught of power to steep, 506. O for the voice of that wild horn, 438. O, hush thee, my babie, thy sire was a knight, O, I do know him- 't is the mouldy lemon, 500. O listen, listen, ladies gay! 78. O, lovers' eyes are sharp to see, 401. O, low shone the sun on the fair lake of Toro, O Maid of Isla from the cliff, 467. O, open the door, some pity to show, 400. say not, my love, with that mortified air, 404. O, who rides by night thro' the woodland so O, will you hear a knightly tale of old Bohemian O, will ye hear a mirthful bourd? 29. Of all the birds on bush or tree, 459. Of yore, in old England, it was not thought Oh, I'm come to the Low Country, 481. Oh! young Lochinvar is come out of the west, Oh! you would be a vestal maid, I warrant, 504. On Ettrick Forest's mountains dun, 467. On Hallow-Mass Eve, ere you boune ye to rest, Once again, but how changed since my wan- One thing is certain in our Northern land, 505. Our work is over-over now, 441. Over the mountains and under the waves, 500. Painters show Cupid blind- hath Hymen eyes ? Parental love, my friend, has power o'er wisdom, Pibroch of Donuil Dhu, 427. Plain as her native dignity of mind, 447. Quake to your foundations deep, 310. Rash adventurer, bear thee back, 306. Red glows the forge in Striguil's bounds, 399. Rescue or none, Sir Knight, I am your captive, Ring out the merry bells, the bride approaches, Rove not from pole to pole- the man lives here, Saint Magnus control thee, 464. Say not my art is fraud-all live by seeming, So, while the Goose, of whom the fable told, Soft spread the southern summer night, 420. Son of a witch, 480. Son of Honor, theme of story, 309. Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife! 493. Staffa sprung from high Macdonald, 410. Stern was the law which bade its votaries leave, Still in his dead hand clenched remain the Still though the headlong cavalier, 504. Summer eve is gone and past, 264. Sweet shone the sun on the fair lake of Toro, Take these flowers which, purple waving, 8. Tell me not of it, friend-when the young Tell me not of it - I could ne'er abide, 507. The ashes here of murdered kings, 506. The Baron of Smaylho'me rose with day, 14. The Druid Urien had daughters seven, 388. The hearth in hall was black and dead, 494. The last of our steers on the board has been The Lord Abbot had a soul, 492. The Minstrel came once more to view, 203. The moon's on the lake and the mist's on the The news has flown frae mouth to mouth, 469. -- The parties met. The wily, wordy Greek, 508. The way is long, my children, long and rough- The way was long, the wind was cold, 46. The wisest sovereigns err like private men, 499. There came three merry men from south, west, There is a mood of mind we all have known, 370. There must be government in all society - 504. This is the very barn-yard, 500. This, sir, is one among the Seigniory, 500. This wandering race, severed from other men, This was the entry, then these stairs - but This way lie safety and a sure retreat, 501. Thou so needful, yet so dread, 465. Through the vain webs, which puzzle sophists' Thy craven fear my truth accused, 455. Thy hue, dear pledge, is pure and bright, 430. 'Tis not her sense-for sure, in that, 505, 'Tis sweet to hear expiring Summer's sigh, 405. 'Tis when the wound is stiffening with the cold, To horse! to horse! the standard flies, 9. To the Lords of Convention 't was Claver'se who To youth, to age, alike, this tablet pale, 484. Too much rest is rust, 504. True Thomas lay on Huntlie bank, 33. 'T was All-souls' eve, and Surrey's heart beat 'Twas near the fair city of Benevent, 478. 'Twas when among our linden-trees, 442. Upon the Rhine, upon the Rhine they cluster, Up rose the sun o'er moor and mead, 482. Vain man, thou mayst esteem thy love as fair, Viewless Essence, thin and bare, 482. Wake, Maid of Lorn! the moments fly, 315. Wasted, weary, wherefore stay, 425. What did ye wi' the bridal ring, 441. What makes the troopers' frozen courage mus- What, man, ne'er lack a draught when the full What sheeted ghost is wandering through the Wheel the wild dance, 422. When autumn nights were long and drear, 495. 503. When the fight of grace is fought, 441. When the last Laird of Ravenswood to Ravens- When the lone pilgrim views afar, 436. Whence the brooch of burning gold, 322. Where is he? Has the deep earth swallowed Where shall the lover rest, 110. Wherefore come ye not to court, 500. While the dawn on the mountain was misty and Who is he? One that for the lack of land, 492. Why, now I have Dame Fortune by the fore- Why sit'st thou by that ruined hall, 429. Why weep ye by the tide, ladie?' 426. With my curteh on my foot, and my shoe on Within that awful volume lies, 455. Without a ruin, broken, tangled, cumbrous, "Woe to the vanquished!' was stern Brenno's Woman's faith, and woman's trust, 476. - Yes, life hath left him every busy thought, Yes, thou mayst sigh, 482. Yon path of greensward, 505. You call it an ill angel-it may be so, 496. You have summoned me once, you have sum- You shall have no worse prison than my cham- You talk of Gayety and Innocence, 505. Your suppliant, by name, 468. Youth of the dark eye, wherefore didst then Youth! thou wear'st to manhood now, 497. |
