Nay, tell me now in what strange a… The Roman Flora dwells to-day. Where Archippiada hides, and wher… Beautiful Thais has passed away? Whence answers Echo, afield, astr…

Swift as sound of music fled When no more the organ sighs, Sped as all old days are sped, So your lips, love, and your eyes, So your gentle-voiced replies

Oh, where are the endless Romance… Our grandmothers used to adore? The Knights with their helms and… Their shields and the favours they… And the Monks with their magical…

Alas, for us no second spring, Like mallows in the garden-bed, For these the grave has lost his s… Alas, for us no second spring, Who sleep without awakening,

Rob Roy from the Highlands cam, Unto the Lawlan’ border, To steal awa a gay ladie To haud his house in order. He cam oure the lock o’ Lynn,

Down Deeside cam Inveraye Whistlin’ and playing, An’ called loud at Brackley gate Ere the day dawning— ‘Come, Gordon of Brackley.

There lived a king in southern lan… King Edward hight his name; Unwordily he wore the crown, Till fifty years were gane. He had a sister’s son o’s ain,

Dead—he is dead! The rouge has le… On that thin cheek where shone, pe… Even while the people laughed that… But yesterday. He died,—and not i… And many a black-robed caitiff sta…

There are laddies will drive ye a… To the burn frae the farthermost t… But ye mauna think driving is a’, Ye may heel her, and send her ajee… Ye may land in the sand or the sea…

Marie Hamilton’s to the kirk gane… Wi ribbons in her hair; The king thought mair o Marie Ham… Than ony that were there. Marie Hamilton’s to the kirk gane…

In torrid heats of late July, In March, beneath the bitter bise… He book-hunts while the loungers f… He book-hunts, though December fr… In breeches baggy at the knees,

“‘Dead and gone,’—a sorry burden o… Say, fair maids, maying In gardens green, In deep dells straying, What end hath been

In the Morning of Time, when his… How bleak, how un-Greek, was the… From his wigwam, if ever he ventur… There was nobody waiting to welcom… For the Man had been made, but th…

Nay, be you pardoner or cheat, Or cogger keen, or mumper shy, You’ll burn your fingers at the fe… And howl like other folks that fry… All evil folks that love a lie!

Our youth began with tears and sig… With seeking what we could not fin… Our verses all were threnodies, In elegiacs still we whined; Our ears were deaf, our eyes were…