The Blue Poetry BookAndrew Lang |
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Page ii
... BALLADS OF BOOKS . Fcp . 8vo . 6s . Edited by ANDREW LANG . LETTERS TO DEAD AUTHORS . Fcp . 8vo . 2s . 6d . net . BOOKS AND BOOKMEN . Fcp . 8vo . 2s . 6d . net . OLD FRIENDS . Fcp . 8vo . 2s . 6d . net . LETTERS ON LITERATURE . Fcp ...
... BALLADS OF BOOKS . Fcp . 8vo . 6s . Edited by ANDREW LANG . LETTERS TO DEAD AUTHORS . Fcp . 8vo . 2s . 6d . net . BOOKS AND BOOKMEN . Fcp . 8vo . 2s . 6d . net . OLD FRIENDS . Fcp . 8vo . 2s . 6d . net . LETTERS ON LITERATURE . Fcp ...
Page v
... Ballad of Agincourt Sir W. Scott M. Drayton Ye Mariners of England ( A Naval Ode ) T. Campbell The Girl describes her Fawn The Soldier's Dream John Gilpin Hohenlinden The Village Blacksmith Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog The Outlaw ...
... Ballad of Agincourt Sir W. Scott M. Drayton Ye Mariners of England ( A Naval Ode ) T. Campbell The Girl describes her Fawn The Soldier's Dream John Gilpin Hohenlinden The Village Blacksmith Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog The Outlaw ...
Page 12
... Ballad of Agincourt FAIR stood the wind for France , When we our sails advance , Nor now to prove our chance Longer will tarry ; But putting to the main , At Caux , the mouth of Seine , With all his martial train , Landed King Harry ...
... Ballad of Agincourt FAIR stood the wind for France , When we our sails advance , Nor now to prove our chance Longer will tarry ; But putting to the main , At Caux , the mouth of Seine , With all his martial train , Landed King Harry ...
Page 13
... the regal seat , By many a warlike feat Lopp'd the French lilies . The Duke of York so dread The eager vanward led , With the main Henry sped , Amongst his henchmen . Exceter had the rear , A braver man not there Ballad of Agincourt 13.
... the regal seat , By many a warlike feat Lopp'd the French lilies . The Duke of York so dread The eager vanward led , With the main Henry sped , Amongst his henchmen . Exceter had the rear , A braver man not there Ballad of Agincourt 13.
Page 14
... , Down the French peasants went , — Our men were hardy . This while our noble king , His broadsword brandishing , Into the host did fling , As to o'erwhelm it , And many a deep wound lent , His arms with 14 Ballad of Agincourt.
... , Down the French peasants went , — Our men were hardy . This while our noble king , His broadsword brandishing , Into the host did fling , As to o'erwhelm it , And many a deep wound lent , His arms with 14 Ballad of Agincourt.
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Common terms and phrases
ancient Annabel Lee appeared ballad beautiful became beneath bird bonny born brave breath bright Cambridge Charles Lamb Christabel CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE cloud Cumnor dead dear death deep delight doth Edinburgh Edinburgh Review England English eyes fair father finest flowers gallant Gray green Hall hand hath hear heard heart Heart of Midlothian heaven hill Irish King Kinmont Willie lady Lamb land later light live London look'd Lord loud Lycidas Marlowe Mary Ambree merry Milton Minstrel Minstrelsy moon morn mother ne'er never night o'er Otterbourne plays poet poetry prose published Queen rose Scott Scottish Border Shakespeare ship sing Sir Patrick Spens Sir Walter Scott sleep song soul sound sung Surtees sweet tell thee thou Twas voice volume of poems waves weary wild WILLIAM JULIUS MICKLE wind WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED Wordsworth written wrote Yarrow youth
Popular passages
Page 71 - Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried. We buried him darkly at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning ; By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him ; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest With his martial cloak around him. Few and short were the prayers...
Page 207 - Their name, their years, spelt by th' unletter'd muse, The place of fame and elegy supply: And many a holy text around she strews, That teach the rustic moralist to die. For who to dumb Forgetfulness a prey, This pleasing anxious being e'er resign'd, Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day.
Page 64 - Tu-who, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. When all aloud the wind doth blow And coughing drowns the parson's saw And birds sit brooding in the snow And Marian's nose looks red and raw, When roasted...
Page 67 - GOING TO THE WARS Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind, To war and arms I fly. True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As you too shall adore; I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honour more.
Page 61 - The Solitary Reaper Behold her, single in the field, Yon solitary Highland Lass! Reaping and singing by herself; Stop here, or gently pass! Alone she cuts and binds the grain, And sings a melancholy strain; 0 listen! for the Vale profound Is overflowing with the sound.
Page 33 - At length, upon the harp, with glee, Mingled with arch simplicity, A soft, yet lively, air she rung, While thus the wily lady sung : LOCHINVAR. O, young Lochinvar is come out of the west, Through all the wide Border his steed was the best ; And save his good broadsword he weapons had none, He rode all unarm'd, and he rode all alone. So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.
Page 206 - Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre. But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page Rich with the spoils of time did ne'er unroll; Chill Penury repress'd their noble rage, And froze the genial current of the soul. Full many a gem of purest ray serene The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear: Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air. Some village Hampden that with dauntless breast The little tyrant of his fields withstood, Some mute inglorious Milton, here may...
Page 28 - It sounds to him like her mother's voice, Singing in Paradise ! He needs must think of her once more, How in the grave she lies ; And with his hard, rough hand he wipes A tear out of his eyes. Toiling, — rejoicing, — sorrowing, Onward through life he goes ; Each morning sees some task begin, Each evening sees it close ; Something attempted, something done, Has earned a night's repose.
Page 130 - TO HELEN. Helen, thy beauty is to me Like those Nicean barks of yore, That gently, o'er a perfumed sea, The weary, way-worn wanderer bore To his own native shore. On desperate seas long wont to roam, Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face, Thy Naiad airs have brought me home To the glory that was Greece And the grandeur that was Rome.
Page 153 - Around, around, flew each sweet sound, Then darted to the Sun; Slowly the sounds came back again, Now mixed, now one by one. Sometimes a-dropping from the sky I heard the sky-lark sing; Sometimes all little birds that are, How they seemed to fill the sea and air With their sweet jargoning! And now 'twas like all instruments, Now like a lonely flute; And now it is an angel's song, That makes the heavens be mute.