XII.

How sweet on the ear broke the glad sound of mirth,
As by distance 't was mellowed and wafted along;
Oh! it seemed not a sound that belonged to the earth,
But some sweet fabled lay, like the Syren's soft song.

XIII.

"T was the nightingale's note that we heard in the wood,
Which skirts the wide plain dimly seen from afar;
It rang through the valley, as, listening we stood
'Neath the glimmering light of the evening star.

XIV.

The wind moved the leaves, and uplifted thine hair
Through the woods, as it blew them so gentle and low,

One might have forgotten this world had a care,

For you looked like an angel of peace, love, below.

XV.

That evening, that hour I shall never forget,

While memory her seat in my bosom doth hold;
Round my heart it is twined, as the ivy's green net
Clasps the tree that is young which it clings to when old.

GEO. KING MATTHEWS.

INDEX OF FIRST LINES.

Page

Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase),
Ae fond kiss, and then we sever,
Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight,
All are architects of Fate,

All thoughts, all passions, all delights,
An angel prisoned in an infant frame,
And this place my forefathers made for man!
And canst thou, Mother, for a moment think,
Announced by all the trumpets of the sky,
A parish priest was of the pilgrims train,

17

292

98

316

7

414

446

325

14

282

Care-charming Sleep, thou easer of all woes,

396

Close at the edge of a busy town, .

426

Come live with me, and be my love,

122

Come, Sleep, O Sleep, the certain knot of peace,

321

Come then, ye virgins and ye youths! whose hearts,

104

Crabbed age and youth,

227

Cupid and my Campaspe played,

11

Cyriac, this three years day these eyes, though clear

327

Page

Dear native brook! wild streamlet of the West!
Do you hear the children weeping, O my brothers,
Drink to me only with thine eyes,

358

25

213

Fair pledges of a fruitful tree,

Fair as unshaded light; or as the day,

Fair Daffodils, we weep to see,

Fear no more the heat o' the sun,

First-born of Chaos, who so fair didst come,
Foolish prater! what dost thou,

From frozen climes, and endless tracks of snow,
From the moist meadow to the withered hill,
From yonder wood mark blue-eyed Eve proceed,

Gather ye rose-buds while ye may,
Gentle herdsman, tell to me,

Get up, get up, for shame; the blooming morn,
Glories, pleasures, pomps, delights, and ease,
Go, lovely Rose,

403

73

221

100

151

243

169

168

110

20

105

. 416

75

185

Green little vaulter in the sunny grass,

92

Hail, beauteous stranger of the grove,

244

Hail, holy Light, offspring of Heaven, first-born,

214

Hail, old patrician trees, so great and good!

Happy they! the happiest of their kind! .

Hark! music speaks from out the woods and streams,

Hear the sledges with the bells,

Hence, all you vain delights,

Hence, loathed Melancholy,

Hence, vain deluding joys,

Here's a health to ane I lo'e dear,

Here's the garden she walked across,

Here, where precipitate Spring, with one light bound,

Her finger was so small, the ring,

He that loves a rosy cheek,

He who hath never warred with misery,
How delicious is the winning,

How happy is he born and taught,

How sleep the brave, who sink to rest,
How still the morning of the hallowed day,
How sweet it were, if without feeble fright,
How sweet the tuneful bells' responsive peal,

I climbed the dark brow of the mighty Helvellyn,
I dreamed that, as I wandered by the way,
I remember the scene when, at evening's soft hour,
If all the world and love were young,
If aught of oaten stop, or pastoral song,

If I had thought thou couldst have died,

If I were thou, O Butterfly,

If thou shouldst ever come by choice or chance,
I had a friend who died in early youth!

I have a name, a little name,

I have had playmates, I have had companions,

I loved him not, and yet now he is gone,

I'm sittin' on the stile, Mary,

In her ear he whispers gaily,

In lowly dale, fast by a river's side,
In petticoat of green,

Page

Is there a whim-inspired fool,

353

It is not that my lot is low,

It's hame, and it 's hame, hame fain wad I be,

It was an aged man, who stood,

I've thought, at gentle and ungentle hour,

153

138

409

. 279

Know ye the fair one whom I love? .

209

Lay a garland on my hearse,

355

Let me not to the marriage of true minds,

437

Little Ellie sits alone,

64

Little thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked clown,

228

Manners with fortunes, humours turn with climes,
Methinks I love all common things,

171

32

Mild offspring of a dark and sullen sire!
Mother of light! how fairly dost thou go,
My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains,
My heart was heavy, for its trust had been,
My loved, my honoured, much-respected friend!

140

125

79

212

389

Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled,
Next to these ladies, but in nought allied,

144

154

No cloud, no relique of the sunken day,
No longer mourn for me when I am dead,
Nor rural sights alone, but rural sounds,
November's sky is chill and drear,

Now that the winter's gone, the earth has lost,
Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger,
Now the golden morn aloft,