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INDEX OF FIRST LINES

Absence, hear thou my protestation
A Chieftain to the Highlands bound
A flock of sheep that leisurely pass by
Ah, Chloris! could I now but sit
Ah! County Guy, the hour is nigh.
All in the Downs the fleet was moor'd
All thoughts, all passions, all delights
And are ye sure the news is true
And is this-Yarrow ?- This the Stream.
And thou art dead, as young and fair
And wilt thou leave me thus
Ariel to Miranda :-Take
Art thou pale for weariness
Art thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers ?
As it fell upon a day
As I was walking all alane
A slumber did my spirit seal.
As slow our ship her foamy track
A sweet disorder in the dress
At the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears
At the mid hour of night, when stars are weeping, I fly
Avenge, O Lord ! thy slaughter'd Saints, whose bones
Awake, Aeolian lyre, awake
Awake, awake, my Lyre
A weary lot is thine, fair maid
A wet sheet and a flowing sea
A widow bird sate mourning for her Love
Bards of Passion and of Mirth
Beauty sat bathing by a spring .
Behold her, single in the field
Being your slave, what should I do but tend
Beneath these fruit-tree boughs that shed
Best and Brightest, come away.
Bid me to live, and I will live
Blest pair of Sirens, pledges of Heaven's joy
Blow, blow, thou winter wind
Bright Star! would I were steadfast as thou art .
Call for the robin-redbreast and the wren
Calm was the day, and through the trembling air
Captain, or Colonel, or Knight in arms
Care-charmer Sleep, son of the sable Night.
Come away, come away, Death .
Come live with me and be my Love
Crabbed Age and Youth
Cupid and my Campaspe play'd
Cyriack, whose grandsire, on the royal bench

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Daughter of Jove, relentless power
Daughter to that good earl, once President
Degenerate Douglas ! O the unworthy lord
Diaphenia like the daffadowndilly
Doth then the world go thus, doth all thus move
Down in yon garden sweet and gay
Drink to me only with thine eyes
Duncan Gray cam here to woo

PAGB
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72
247

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39
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150

Earl March look'd on his dying child
Earth has not anything to show more fair
Eternal Spirit of the chainless Mind
Ethereal minstrel ! pilgrim of the sky
Ever let the Fancy roam

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Fair Daffodils, we weep to see
Fair pledges of a fruitful tree
Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing
Fear no more the heat o' the sun
For ever, Fortune, wilt thou prove
Forget not yet the tried intent
Four Seasons fill the measure of the year
From Harmony, from heavenly Harmony
From Stirling Castle we had seen

fathom five thy father lies.

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Gather ye rose-buds while ye may.
Gem of the crimson-colour'd Even
Go fetch to me a pint o' wine
Go, lovely Rose

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74

Hail to thee, blithe Spirit
Happy the man, whose wish and care
Happy those early days, when I
He that loves a rosy cheek
He is gone on the mountain
Hence, all you vain delights .
Hence, loathéd Melancholy
Hence, vain deluding Joys
How delicious is the winning
How happy is he born and taught.
How like a winter hath my absence been
How sleep the Brave who sink to rest
How sweet the answer Echo makes
How vainly men themselves amaze

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I am monarch of all I survey
I arise from dreams of Thee
I dream'd that as I wander'd by the way
If aught of oaten stop or pastoral song
If doughty deeds my lady please
I fear thy kisses, gentle maiden.

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If Thou survive my well-contented day.
If to be absent were to be
If women could be fair, and yet not fond
I have had playmates, I have had companions
I heard a thousand blended notes
I met a traveller from an antique land
I'm wearing awa', Jean.
In a drear-nighted December
In the downhill of life, when I find I'm declining
In the sweet shire of Cardigan
I remember, I remember
I saw where in the shroud did lurk
It is a beauteous evening, calm and free.
It is not Beauty I demand
It is not growing like a tree .
I travell’d among unknown men
It was a lover and his lass
It was a summer evening.
I've heard them lilting at our ewe-milking .
I wander'd lonely as a cloud.
I was thy neighbour once, thou rugged Pile

wish I were where Helen lies.

PAGB 28 81 25 216 276 247 154 188 163 213 220 233 267 72 62 176

6 210 118 254 291 87

154

John Anderson my jo, John .
Lawrence, of virtuous father virtuous son
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Life! I know not what thou art
Life of Life! Thy lips enkindle.
Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore.
Like to the clear in highest sphere
Love not me for comely grace
Lo! where the rosy-bosom'd Hours
Many a green isle needs must be
Mary! I want a lyre with other strings
Milton! thou shouldst be living at this hour
Mine be a cot beside the hill.
Mortality, behold and fear
Most sweet it is with unuplifted eyes.
Much have I travell'd in the realms of gold.
Music, when soft voices die
My days among the Dead are past
My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My heart leaps up when I behold
My Love in her attire doth shew her wit
My lute, be as thou wert when thou didst grow
My thoughts hold mortal strife .
My true-love hath my heart, and I have his
No longer mourn for me when I am dead
Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note
Not, Celia, that I juster am

64 15 164 275 18 10 79 136

284 160 208 140

58 272 166 307 224 244 301 77 23 26 15

29 212 79 221 113

Now the golden Morn aloft
Now the last day of many days.

PAGE 107 265

243 171 124 153 202 207 38

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14 232 193 146

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O blithe new-comer! I have heard.
O Brignall banks are wild and fair.
Of all the girls that are so smart
Of a' the airts the wind can blaw
Of Nelson and the North .
O Friend ! I know not which way I must look
Of this fair volume which we World do name
Oft in the stilly night
O if thou knew'st how thou thyself dost harm
O listen, listen, ladies gay
O lovers' eyes are sharp to see
O Mary, at thy window be
O me! what eyes hath love put in my head.
O Mistress mine, where are you roaming
O my Luve's like a red, red rose
On a day, alack the day
On a Poet's lips I slept
Once did She hold the gorgeous East in fee
One more Unfortunate
O never say that I was false of heart
One word is too often profaned .
On Linden, when the sun was low.
O saw ye bonnie Lesley
O say what is that thing call'd Light
O snatch'd away in beauty's bloom
O talk not to me of a name great in story
Our bugles sang truce, for the night-cloud had lower'd.
Over the mountains.

waly waly up the bank
O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms
O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being.
O World ! O Life! O Time.

16 143

13 292 207 226

8 198 209 147 109 229 170 270 68 85 190 289 301

Pack, clouds, away, and welcome day
Phoebus, arise
Pibroch of Donuil Dhụ.
Poor Soul, the centre of my sinful earth
Proud Maisie is in the wood

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37 226

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Queen and Huntress, chaste and fair .
Rarely, rarely, comest thou
Ruin seize thee, ruthless King
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness.
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day.
Shall I, wasting in despair
She dwelt among the untrodden ways
She is not fair to outward view.
She walks in beauty, like the night

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PAGE 174

She was a phantom of delight
Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, ncr boundless sea
Since there's no help, come let us kiss and part
Sleep on, and dream of Heaven awhile
Souls of Poets dead and gone
Spring, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant king
Star that bringest home the bee
Stern Daughter of the voice of God
Surprized by joy-impatient as the wind
Sweet, be not proud of those two eyes
Sweet Highland Girl, a very shower
Sweet stream, that winds through yonder glade
Swiftly walk over the western wave

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22

Take o take those lips away.
Tax not the royal Saint with vain expense
Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind
Tell me where is Fancy bred .
That time of year thou may'st in me behold
That which her slender waist confined
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day
The forward youth that would appear.
The fountains mingle with the river
The glories of our blood and state
The last and greatest Herald of Heaven's King
The lovely lass o' Inverness
The merchant, to secure his treasure
The more we live, more brief appear
The poplars are fell’d, farewell to the shade
There be none of Beauty's daughters
There is a flower, the Lesser Celandine
There is a garden in her face.
There's not a joy the world can give like that it takes away
There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream
The sun is warm, the sky is clear
The sun upon the lake is low
The twentieth year is well nigh past
The World is too much with us; late and soon
The World's a bubble, and the Life of Man
They that have power to hurt, and will do none
This is the month, and this the happy morn
This Life, which seems so fair
Three years she grew in sun and shower
Thy braes were bonny, Yarrow stream
Thy hue, dear pledge, is pure and bright
Timely blossom, Infant fair
Tired with all these, for restful death I cry:
Toll for the brave.
To me, fair Friend, you never can be old
'Twas at the royal feast for Persia won
'Twas on a lofty vase's side
Two Voices are there, one is of the Sea

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50 182 59 40 117 128 299 138 1.73 219

76 218 301 223 268 161 293 37 19 41 36 177 118

84 111 39

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