^ 
 
 13 00K OF RUBIES 
 
 ie. 
 
 M 
 
Vcr 
 
 THE 
 
 BOOK OF RUBIES: 
 
 COLLECTION OF THE MOST NOTABLE 
 
 Hobe^lJoems 
 
 ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 
 
 <,.i^i:: -t r. /-i; O y"*) 
 
 NEW YORK: e' 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER & CO. 
 
 IZ4 GRAND STREET. 
 1866. 
 

 Entered .Kcording to Act of Congress, in the year 1S65, 
 
 By Charles Scribner &; Co., 
 
 In the Clerk's OtHce of the District Court of the United States for the 
 Southern District of New York. 
 
 I.VORP, STF.RF.OTYPER AND PRINTER. 
 
Vr 
 
 ■sf 
 
 THOSE WHO HAVE LOVED, 
 
 TO THOSE WHO HAVE BEEN BELOVED 
 
 NO LESS THAN 
 
 TO THOSE WHO LOVE 
 
 TO THOSE WHO ARE BELOVED, 
 
 THIS COLLECTION OF 
 
 3ak-'§am 
 
 IS INSCRIBED. 
 
 JSt^ 
 
•5? 
 
 jjnti'o&uctiou. 
 
 T was the intention of the compiler to include, in 
 7^81^ a volume of moderate size, the most notable of the 
 'X^^^- minor love-poems of the English language, and its 
 J|** dialects, in such order and to such extent as would 
 y^J" serve to show the progress of our amatory poetry, 
 while it gave a fair idea of the different style of our poets, 
 and their relative merits in a single field of action. In this, 
 being an endeavor to combine distinct objects in one, there 
 were some difficulties to be encountered ; but these did not 
 prove to be insurmountable. It is possible that some may 
 think a few poems admitted into the collection are not the 
 very best specimens of their kind ; while others may complain 
 that some poems deserving a place have been omitted. The 
 former censure may be palliated by a declaration, that all that 
 is mainly a matter of taste ; and to the latter it may be replied, 
 that some fitting poems may have escaped the compiler's 
 notice. It is believed that the collection will, nevertheless, 
 be found the most complete and best-arranged in its contents, 
 as it is the most elegant in mechanical execution, of any yet 
 issued. Should the volume meet with favour, and arrive at the 
 
 3f. 
 
vr- 55 
 
 8 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 desired goal of other editions, it is to be hoped that the con- 
 sequent revision will render it still more perfect of its kind. 
 
 Some difficulty was experienced in culling for a work de- 
 signed for the centre-table, as well as the library, from cele- 
 brated writers at different periods. In the Elizabethan age 
 especially, the erotic poets covered some of their finest con- 
 ceits with the grossest language, rendering the poems unfit 
 for the perusal of persons of delicate minds. At a later period, 
 the puerilities of the pastoral school afforded but little scope 
 for selection. At all times prior to the close of the last 
 century, there was an affectation of classical knowledge which 
 destroyed the fire and fervour of the verse, by pressing the 
 Roman deities most absurdly into the service of the poet. 
 As the compiler had no right to alter or erase, and did not 
 desire to omit passages, his range of selection was considerably 
 decreased. With all this, there was a sufficient mine of 
 wealth to explore — enough, indeed, to make a larger volume 
 — and he availed himself of the treasure at hand as his judg- 
 ment taught him to do. 
 
 The biographical sketches at the close are purposely meagre. 
 To have made them more full was no part of the design. 
 A few salient points of personal history, to gratify the curi- 
 osity of the reader, were considered to be sufficient. Where 
 it was thought to be necessary or desirable, in the body of 
 the work, a foot-note has been introduced ; but superfluous 
 comment has been scrupulously avoided. 
 
 
BOOK OF RUBIES 
 
 3ol)u Sliclton 
 
 [Born 1463. Dieo 1519.] 
 
 Margaret. 
 
 ERRY Margaret 
 
 As midsummer flower, 
 Gentle as falcon, 
 
 Or hawk of the tower -, 
 With solace and gladness, 
 Much mirth and no madness, 
 All good and no badness ; 
 
 So joyously, 
 
 So maidenly, 
 
 So womanly 
 
 Her demeaning 
 
 In every thing. 
 
 Far, far passing 
 
 S- 
 
 J 
 
K- 
 
 BOOK OF BUSIES. 
 
 That I can indite 
 Or suffice to write 
 Of merry Margaret 
 
 As midsummer flower, 
 Gentle as falcon, 
 
 Or hawk of the tower ; 
 As patient and as still. 
 And as full of good-will 
 As fair Isiphil, 
 Coliander, 
 Sweet Pomander, 
 Good Cassander; 
 Stedfast of thought. 
 Well made, well wrought 
 Far may be sought. 
 Ere you can find 
 So courteous, so kind. 
 As merry Margaret 
 
 The midsummer flower, 
 Gentle as falcon. 
 
 Or hawk of the tower. 
 
 .fe 
 
SIR THOMAS WYAT. 
 
 Sir tl)0mas tDeat 
 
 [Born 1503. Died 1 'i4--l 
 
 A Supplication. 
 
 ORGET not yet the tried intent 
 Of such a truth as I have meant 
 My great travail so gladly spent, 
 Forget not yet ! 
 
 Forget not yet w^hen first began 
 The weary life ye know, since whan 
 The suit, the service none tell can; 
 Torget not yet ! 
 
 Forget not yet the great essays, 
 The cruel wrong, the scornful ways. 
 The painful patience in delays, 
 Forget not yet ! 
 
 Forget not ! O forget not this. 
 How long ago hath been, and is 
 The mind that never meant amiss — 
 Forget not yet ! 
 
 
K 
 
 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 Forget not then thine own approved 
 The which so long hath thee so loved, 
 Whose steadfast faith yet never moved 
 Forget not this ! 
 
 The One He would Love. 
 
 V ACE that should content me wondrous 
 well, 
 Should not be fat, but lovely to behold, 
 Of lively look, all grief for to repel 
 
 With right good grace, so would I that it 
 should. 
 Speak without words such words as none can tell. 
 
 Her tress also should be of crisped gold, 
 With wit and these perchance I might be tried, 
 And knit airain with knot that should not slide. 
 
 3i 
 
"K 
 
 SIR THOMAS WYAT. 
 
 ^3 
 
 L () \ E C O M P A R I- D. 
 
 ROM these high hills, as when a spring doth 
 fall, 
 It tiilleth down with still and subtle course, 
 Of this and that, and gathers aye and shall, 
 rill it have just down flowed to stream and 
 force, 
 
 Then at the foot it rageth over all : 
 So fareth love when he hath ta'en a course; 
 Rage is his rain, resistance 'vaileth none, 
 The first eschew is remedy alone. 
 
 is- 
 
 J4 
 
14 
 
 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 ^cnrri l^otuarb, OJavl of Surrca 
 
 [Born 1516. Difd J547.] 
 
 ET 
 
 A Vow. 
 me where as the sun doth parch the 
 
 green, 
 Or where his beams do not dissolve the 
 
 ice, 
 In temperate heat, where he is felt and seen. 
 In presence prest of people, mad or wise; 
 
 Set me in high, or yet in low degree, 
 In longest night, or in the shortest day ; 
 
 In clearest sky, or where clouds thickest be. 
 In lusty youth, or when my hairs are grey : 
 
 Set me in heaven, in earth, or else in hell. 
 In hill or dale, or in the foaming flood ; 
 
 Thrall, or at large, alive where so I dwell. 
 Sick, or in health, in evil fame, or good, — 
 
 Hers I will be, ana only with this thought 
 Content myself, although my chance be naught. 
 
 3?: 
 
HENR7 HOWARD, EARL OF SURREY. 15 
 
 Give place, ye Lovers. 
 
 aVE place, ye lovers, here before 
 
 That spent your boasts and brags in vain : 
 
 My lady's beauty passeth more 
 
 The best of years, I dare well sayen, 
 
 Than doth the Sun the candle-light, 
 
 Or brightest day the darkest night. 
 
 And thereto hath a troth as just. 
 
 As had Penelope the Fair •, 
 For what she saith, ye may it trust, 
 
 As it by writing sealed were : 
 And virtues hath she many mo' 
 Than I with pen have skill to show. 
 
 I could rehearse, if that I would. 
 The whole offset of Nature's plaint. 
 
 When she had lost the perfect mould, 
 The like to whom she could not paint : 
 
 With wringing hands, how did she cry, 
 
 And what she said, I know it aye. 
 
 I knew she swore with raging mind. 
 Her kingdom only set apart. 
 
 J 
 
BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 There was no loss by law of kind 
 
 That could have gone so near her heart 
 And this was chiefly all her pain : 
 " She could not make the like again." 
 
 Sith Nature thus gave her the praise, 
 To be the chiefest work she wrought, 
 
 In faith, methink, some better ways 
 On your behalf might well be sought. 
 
 Than to compare as ye have done. 
 
 To match the candle with the Sun. 
 
% 
 
 ELIZABETH, QUEEN OF ENGLAND. I 
 
 (glijabetl) Subor, (iHuccn of (Unglaub. 
 
 [Born 1533. Died 1603.] 
 
 On my own Feelings. 
 
 CjRiLVli,, ^j^j dare not show my discontent ; 
 
 I love, and yet am forced to seem to hate ; 
 I do, yet dare not say I ever meant ; 
 
 I seem stark mute, yet inwardly do prate. 
 I am, and not ; I freeze, and yet am burned, 
 Since from myself my other self I turned. 
 
 My care is like my shadow in the sun. 
 
 Follows me flying, flies when I pursue it ; 
 
 Stands and lies by me, does what I have done. 
 This too familiar care does make me rue it. 
 
 No means I find to rid him from my breast, 
 
 Till by the end of things it be suppressed. 
 
 Some gentler passions slide into my mind. 
 For I am soft and made of melting snow ; 
 
 Or be more cruel. Love, and so be kind ; 
 Let me or float or sink, be high or low, 
 
 Or let me live with some more sweet content, 
 
 Or die, and so forget what love e'er meant. 
 
i8 
 
 BOOK OF R UBIE S. 
 
 T^ 
 
 JJcr|)n C)arviu9tcin. 
 
 [Born 1534. Died 1582.] 
 
 Sonnet on Isabella Markham. 
 
 'hence comes my love ? O heart, disclost 
 It was from cheeks that shamed the rose, 
 From lips that spoil the ruby's praise, 
 From eyes that mock the diamond's blaze : 
 Whence comes my woe, as freely own ; 
 Ah, me ! 'twas from a heart like stone. 
 
 The blushing cheek speaks modest mind. 
 The lips befitting words most kind, 
 The eye does tempt to love's desire. 
 And seems to say 'tis Cupid's fire ; 
 Yet all so fair but speak m\' moan, 
 Sith naught doth say the heart of stone. 
 
 Why thus, my love, so kind bespeak 
 Sweet eye, sweet lip, sweet blushing cheek- 
 Yet not a heart to save my' pain ? 
 Oh, Venus ! take thy gifts again ! 
 Make not so fair to cause our moan, 
 Or make a heart that's like our own. 
 
 34 
 
Id 7!;f 
 
 VERE, EARL OF OXFORD. 1 9 
 
 aJ5u)ar5 llcrc, Oravl of ©jtfovb. 
 
 [Born 1534. Died 1604.] 
 
 I 
 
 l^.'^^ F 
 
 A Renunciation. 
 
 women could be fair, and yet not fond, 
 
 Or that their love were firm, not fickle still, 
 
 I would not marvel that they make men bond 
 By service long to purchase their good-will ; 
 V^ Hut when I see how frail those creatures arc, 
 
 I muse that men forget themselves so far. 
 
 To mark the choice they make, and how they change, 
 
 How oft from Phoebus they do flee to Pan ; 
 Unsettled still, like haggards wild they range. 
 
 These gentle birds that fly from man to man ; 
 Who would not scorn and shake them from the fist. 
 And let them fly, fair fools, which way they list ? 
 
 Yet for disport we fawn and flatter both. 
 
 To pass the time when nothing else can please, 
 
 And train them to our lure with subtle oath, 
 Till, weary of their wiles, ourselves we ease ; 
 
 And then we say when we their fancy try. 
 
 To play with fools, O what a fool was I ! 
 
 k. 
 
VST 
 
 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 [Born i552(?). Died 1593-3 
 
 The Passionate Shepherd. 
 
 "^^ OME live with me, and be my love. 
 And we will all the pleasures prove 
 o That vallies, groves, and hills and fields, 
 Tj-, The woods or steepy mountains yields. 
 
 And we will sit upon the rocks. 
 Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks, 
 By shallow rivers, to whose falls 
 Melodious birds sing madrigals. 
 
 And I will make thee beds of roses. 
 And a thousand fragrant posies ; 
 A cap of flowers and a kirtle. 
 Embroidered o'er with leaves of myrtle. 
 
 A gown made of the finest wool. 
 Which from our pretty lamns we pull ; 
 Fair lined slippers for the cold, 
 With buckles of the purest gold. 
 
.S' / /,' W A L T E R R ALE I G If. 
 
 A belt of straw and ivv buds, 
 With coral clasps and amber studs ; 
 And if these pleasures thee may move, 
 Come live with me, and be my love. 
 
 The shepherd swains shall dance and sing, 
 For thy delight, each May morning ; 
 If these delights thy mind may move, 
 Then live with me and be my love. 
 
 Sir Ulaltcr Halcigl) 
 
 [Born 1551. Died i6i8.] 
 
 The Nymph's Rkply. 
 
 F all the world and love were young, 
 And truth on every shepherd's tongu 
 n| a' These pleasures might my passion mov 
 To live with thee, and be thv love. 
 
 But fading flowers in every field. 
 To winter floods their treasures yield ; 
 A honeyed tongue, a heart of gall, 
 Is Fancy's spring, but Sorrow's fall. 
 
 M 
 
 e 
 
 -2% 
 
ifs — 
 
 22 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 Thy gown, thy shoes, thy beds of roses. 
 Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies. 
 Are all soon withered, broke, forgotten. 
 In Folly ripe, in Reason rotten. 
 
 Thy belt of straw and ivy buds, 
 Thy coral clasps and amber studs. 
 Can me with no enticements move 
 To live with thee, and be thy love. 
 
 But could youth last, could Love still breed, 
 Had Joy no date, had Age no need ; 
 Then those delights my mind might move. 
 To live with thee, and be thy love. 
 
 IJ? 
 
 k 
 
ts 
 
 EDMUND SPENSER. 23 
 
 [Born 1553. Died 1598.] 
 
 Sonnet. 
 
 E tradeful merchants ! that with weary toil 
 
 Do seek most precious things to make 
 
 your gain, 
 
 And both the Indies of their treasure spoil, 
 
 What needeth you to seek so far in 
 
 vain ? 
 
 For, lo ! my love doth in herself contain 
 
 All this world's riches that may far be found j 
 
 If sapphires, lo ! her eyes be sapphires plain ; 
 If rubies, lo ! her lips be rubies sound ; 
 
 If pearls, her teeth be pearls, both pure and round. 
 
 If ivory, her forehead ivory ween ; 
 If gold, her locks are finest gold on ground ; 
 
 If silver, her fair hands are silver sheen : 
 
 But that which fairest is, but itw behold, 
 Her mind, adorned with virtues manifold. 
 
24 
 
 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 rCi 
 
 Sir |)l)ilip Sibucij 
 
 [Born 1554. Died 1586.J 
 
 A Ditty. 
 
 "^ true love hath my heart, and 1 have his, 
 By just exchange, one to the other giver 
 I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss. 
 There never was a better bargain driven 
 Mv true love hath my heart, and I have hi 
 
 His heart in me keeps him and me in one. 
 
 My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides 
 
 He loves my heart, for once it was his own, 
 I cherish his because in me it bides : 
 
 My true love hath my heart, and I have his. 
 
 SL 
 
 ^ 
 
JOHN LYLYE. 25 
 
 3ol)n Culije. 
 
 [Born 1554. Died 1600.] 
 
 Cupid and Campaspe. 
 
 LIPID and my Campaspe played 
 At cards for kisses ; Cupid paid : 
 He stakes his quiver, bow, and arrows. 
 His mother's dove, and team of sparrows ; 
 Loses them too ; then down he throws 
 The coral of his lip, the rose 
 Growing on's cheek (but none knows how) 
 With these, the crystal of his brow, 
 And then the dimple on his chin ; 
 All these did my Campaspe win : 
 At last he set her both his eyes — 
 She won, and Cupid blind did rise. 
 O Love ! has she done this to thee r 
 What shall, alas ! become of me ? 
 
 %. 
 
'•, 
 
 
 — 1 
 
 26 
 
 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 Nicl)ola6 SrctDU. 
 
 
 
 [Born 1555. Diio 16—.] 
 
 
 Phillida axd Corydon. 
 the merry month of May, 
 
 
 "^f^ 
 
 In a morn by break of day, 
 
 
 t 
 
 With a troop of damsels playing. 
 
 
 Forth I went — forsooth, a Maying. 
 
 
 
 Where anon bv a wood side, 
 
 
 
 Where as May was in his pride. 
 
 
 
 I espied all alone. 
 
 
 
 Phillida and Corydon. 
 
 
 
 Much ado there was, God wot ; 
 
 
 
 He would love and she would not. 
 
 
 
 She said, never man was true ; 
 
 
 
 He says, none was false to you. 
 
 
 
 He said, he had loved her long ; 
 
 
 
 She says, love should have no wrong. 
 
 
 
 Corydon would kiss her then ; 
 
 
 
 She says, maids must kiss no men 
 
 
 ^• 
 
 
 ••5^ 
 
NICHOLAS BRETON. 
 
 Till they do for good and all — 
 When she made the shepherd call 
 All the heavens to witness truth, 
 Never loved a truer youth. 
 
 Then with many a pretty oath, 
 Yea and nay, and faith and troth ■, 
 Such as silly shepherds use 
 When they will not love abuse ; 
 
 Love that had been long deluded. 
 Was with kisses sweet concluded ; 
 And Phillida, with garlands gay, 
 Was made the lady of the May. 
 
 — ^ 
 
 ^7 
 
28 
 
 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 [Born 1556. Dikd 1615.] 
 
 Rosalind's Complaint. 
 
 OV'K in my bosom, like a bee. 
 
 Doth suck his sweet j 
 Now with his wings he phivs with me, 
 
 Now with his feet ; 
 Within mine eves he makes his nest. 
 His bed amidst mv tender breast ; 
 My kisses are his daily feast. 
 And vet he robs me of mv rest : 
 
 Ah ! wanton, will vou ? 
 
 And if I sleep, then pierceth he 
 
 With pretty slight. 
 And makes his pillow of mv knee 
 
 The live-long night ; 
 Strike I the lute, he tunes the string. 
 He music plavs, if I but sing ; 
 He lends me every lovelv thing. 
 Yet cruel, he my heart doth sting : 
 
 Ah ! wanton, will you ? 
 
Kr- 
 
 THOMAS LODGE. 29 
 
 Else I with roses every day 
 
 Will whip you hence, 
 And bind you when you long to play, 
 
 For your offence ; 
 I'll shut my eyes to keep you in, 
 I'll make you fast it for your sin, 
 I'll count your power not worth a pin ; 
 Alas ! what hereby shall I win. 
 
 What if I beat the wanton boy 
 
 With many a rod, 
 He will repay me with annoy. 
 
 Because a god ; 
 I'hen sit thou softly on my knee, 
 And let thy bower my bosom be ; 
 Lurk in my eyes, I like of thee, 
 O Cupid ! so thou pity me ; 
 
 Spare not, but play thee. 
 
 
 
 1 
 
% 
 
 30 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 Kobcvt Greene, 
 
 [Born i^6oi?). Dif.d 1591.] 
 
 Melicertus's Description. 
 
 ^.^ 
 
 UNE on, mv pipe, the praises of mv love. 
 And midst thy oaten harmonv* recount 
 How fair she is that makes mv music mount. 
 
 And everv string of mv heart's harp to move. 
 
 Shall I compare her form unto the sphere, 
 
 Wlience sun-bright Venus vaunts her silver shine ? 
 Ah, more than that by just compare is thine, 
 
 Whose crvstal looks the cloudy heavens do clear I 
 
 How oft have I descending Titan seen 
 
 His burning locks quench in the sea-queen's lap. 
 And beauteous Thetis his red body wrap 
 
 In watery robes, as he her lord had been. 
 
 * III the old poets this word is frequently used in the sense of melody. 
 . ^ % 
 
ROBERT GREENE. 
 
 When as my nympli, impatient of the night, 
 Bade bright Arcturus with his train give place. 
 Whiles she led forth the day with her fair face, 
 
 And lent each star a more than Delian light. 
 
 31 
 
 Not Jove nor Nature, should they both agree 
 To make a woman of the firmament 
 Of his mixed purity, could not* invent 
 
 A sky-born form so beautiful as she. 
 
Vr 
 
 3^ 
 
 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 Samuel Oauncll 
 
 [Born 1561. Died i6iq ] 
 
 A Character of Love. 
 
 OV'E is a sickness full of woes, 
 
 All remedies refusing, 
 A plant that with most cutting grows, 
 Most barren with best using. 
 Why so ? 
 If we cnjov it, soon it dies ; 
 If not enjoyed, it sighing cries 
 Hey ho ! 
 
 Lo\ e is a torment of the mind, 
 A tempest everlasting, 
 A heaven has made it of a kind, 
 Not well ; — nor full, nor fasting. 
 
 AVhy so r 
 If we enjoy it, soon it dies j 
 If not enjoyed, it sighing cries 
 Hev ho ! 
 
 3^: 
 
'K 
 
 IH 
 
 SAMUEL DAN YELL. 
 
 33 
 
 To Delia. 
 
 ^NTO the boundless ocean of thy beauty. 
 
 Runs this poor river, charged with streams 
 of zeal, 
 Returning thee the tribute of my duty. 
 
 Which here my love, my youth, my plaints 
 reveal. 
 Here I unclasp the book of my charged soul, 
 
 Where I have cast th' accounts of all mv care ; 
 Here have I summed my sighs ; here I enrol 
 
 How they were spent for thee; look what they are. 
 Look on the dear expenses of my youth, 
 
 And see how just I reckon with thine eyes : 
 Examine well thy beauty with my truth ; 
 
 And cross my cares, ere greater cares arise. 
 Read it, sweet maid, though it be done but slightly ; 
 Who can show all his love, doth love but lightly. 
 
 i^ 
 
n- 
 
 34 
 
 BOOK OF EUJ3IES. 
 
 7S 
 
 tjcnvn vHonritablc. 
 
 [Born is62{?). Ditn i6o4(?).J 
 
 D I A P H E N I A. 
 
 lA THEN I A, like the daftadoundilly, 
 \Vhitc as the sun, fair as the Hly, 
 Ilcigh-ho, how I do love thee ! 
 1 do love thee as my lambs 
 Arc beloved of their dams ; 
 I low blest I wore if thou wouldst pro\ e mc. 
 
 Diaplicnia, like the spreading roses, 
 That in thv sweets all sweets encloses, 
 Fair sweet, liow I do love thee ! 
 I do love thee as each flower 
 Loves the sun's life-gi\ ing power ; 
 For dead, thv breath to life might mo\ e me. 
 
 Diaphenia, like to all things blessed, 
 ^Vhen all thv praises are expressed, 
 
 Dear jov, how I do love thee ! 
 
 As the birds do love the spring. 
 
 Or the bees their careful king : 
 Then in requite, sweet virgin, love me I 
 
 
JOSnUA SYLVESTER. 35 
 
 (BokN 1563. Uitu 161 X.J 
 
 Love's Omnipresence. 
 
 LRK I as Ij^sc as is the lowly plain, 
 
 And you, my Love, as high as heaven above, 
 / I ' Yet should the thoughts of me, your humhlc 
 swain, 
 Ascend to heaven, in honor of my Love. 
 
 Were I as high as heaven above the plain, 
 And you, my Love, as humble and as low 
 
 As are the deepest bottoms of the main, 
 
 Whcrcsoc'er you were, with you my love should go. 
 
 Were you the earth, dear Love, and I the skies, 
 My love should shine on you like to the sun, 
 
 And look upon you with ten thousand eyes 
 
 Till heaven waxed blind, and till the world were 
 done. 
 
 Wheresoe'er I am, below, or else above you, 
 Wheresoe'er you are, my heart shall truly love you. 
 
% ^^ 
 
 36 £00 A' OF Ri'BIES. 
 
 iHiii)aci Dvaijton 
 
 [Born 1565. L>in« 1651.) 
 
 '«? . . Love's Farewell. 
 
 . INCE there's no help, come let us kiss and 
 P-^rt, — 
 -v^>^ • Xav, I have done, vou get no more o; 
 
 And I am glad, yea glad with all my heart, 
 That thus so cleanlv I mvself can tree ; 
 
 Shake hands forever, cancel all our vows, 
 And when we meet at anv time again, 
 
 Be it not seen in either of our brows 
 That we one jot of former love retain. 
 
 Now at the last g-asp of love's latest breath, 
 \Vhen his pulse failing, pa>sion speechless lies 
 
 \N"hen faith is kneeling bv his bed of death, 
 And innocence is closing up his eves, 
 
 — Now if thou wouldst, when all have given him 
 
 over, 
 From death to life thou misjht'st him vet recover. 
 
 -S' 
 
?r 
 
 w:lliam shakspeare. 
 
 ^7 
 
 tUilliam Sljakapcarc 
 
 [Born 1564. Died 161 6. J 
 
 Take, oh, take those lips away. 
 
 AKK, oh, take those lips away. 
 That so sweetly were forsworn ! 
 y And those eyes, the break of day, 
 E^j^. \i^ Lights that do mislead the morn ; 
 
 '^ (gJ But my kisses bring again, 
 • Seals of love, but sealed in vain. 
 
 Hide, oh, hide those hills of snow. 
 Which thy frozen bosom bears ! 
 
 On whose tops the pinks that grow 
 Are of those that April wears ; 
 
 But first set my poor heart free. 
 
 Bound in those icy chains by thee. 
 
 * The authorship of the above is an unsettled question. The first 
 itanza will be found in Measure for Measure ; and the idea contained in 
 "Seals of love, but sealed in vain," is to be found in one of Shakspeare's 
 sonnets, and in Venus and Adonis. Both stanzas are in one of Beaumont 
 and Fleteher's plays. The probability is that the first stanza is by Shak- 
 speare, and the next by Fletcher. 
 
 J 
 
?sr 
 
 1!? 
 
 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 A D E s c R I p r 1 1 
 
 NL ot' her hands one of her cheeks lav under, 
 4f^ Cozenino; the pillow of a lawful kiss, . 
 •\* \ WHiich therefore swelled, and seemed to part 
 . asunder, 
 
 As angry to be robbed of such a bliss , 
 The one looked pale, and for revenge did long, 
 While th' other blushed, 'cause it had done the wrong. 
 
 Out of the bed the other fair hand was 
 
 On a green satin quilt, whose perfect white 
 
 Looked like a daisy in a field of grass. 
 
 And showed like unmclt snow unto the si^ht.* 
 
 * Sir John Suckling completed this unrinislied poem, but the addition 
 an inferior one. 
 
 J- 
 
 
 V 
 
 *i 
 
 i54 
 
vG' 
 
 WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 39 
 
 Love' 
 
 ERJ URIES. 
 
 N a day, alack the day ! 
 
 Love, whose month is ever May, 
 
 Spied a blossom passing fair 
 
 Playing in the wanton air : 
 
 Through the velvet leaves the wind 
 
 All unseen 'gan passage find ; 
 
 That the lover, sick to death, 
 
 Wished himself the heaven's breath. 
 
 Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow ; 
 
 Air, would I might triumph so ! 
 
 But, alack, my hand is sworn 
 
 Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn : 
 
 Vow, alack for youth unmeet ; 
 
 Youth so apt to pluck a sweet. 
 
 Do not call it sin in me 
 
 That I am forsworn for thee : 
 
 Thou for whom e'en Jove would swear 
 
 Juno but an Ethiope were, 
 
 And deny himself for Jove, 
 
 Turning mortal for thy love. 
 
 W 
 
 0^ 
 
 % 
 
^/: 
 
 40 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 True L o v e. 
 
 ♦,\/ V.'V nie not to the marriage of true minds 
 Admit impediments. Love is not love 
 Which alters when it alteration finds, 
 
 Or bends with the remover to remove : — 
 
 no ! it is an ever-fixed mark 
 
 That looks on tempests, and is never shaken ; 
 It is the star to everv wandering barque 
 
 Whose worth's unknown, although his height be 
 taken. 
 
 Love's not time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks 
 Within his bending sickle's compass come ; 
 
 Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks. 
 But bears it out even to the edge of doom : — 
 
 If this be error, and upon me proved, 
 
 1 never writ, nor no man ever loved. 
 
 i£. 
 
%~ 
 
 WILLIAM SHAKSPEAHE. 
 
 41 
 
 A U S E N C E . 
 
 '^EING your slave, what should I do but tend 
 Upon the hours and time of your desire ? 
 I have no precious time at all to spend, 
 Nor services to do, till you require ; 
 
 Nor dare I chide the u^orld-without-end hour 
 
 Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for 
 you, 
 
 Nor think the bitterness of absence sour 
 
 When you have bid your servant once adieu : 
 
 Nor dare I question with my jealous thought 
 Where you may be, or your affairs suppose. 
 
 Hut, like a sad slave, stay and think of naught 
 
 Save, where you are, how happy you make those : 
 
 So true a fool is love, that in your will, 
 Though you do any thing, he thinks no ill. 
 
BOOK OF KUBIES. 
 
 Unchangeable. 
 
 NF\ ER sav that I was false of heart, 
 f^, • Though absence seemed mv flame to quality : 
 *;^^<^ As easv might I from mvself depart 
 
 As from mv soul, which in thy breast doth 
 lie. 
 
 This is mv home of love ; if I have ranged. 
 Like him that travels, I return again. 
 
 Just with the time, not with the time exchanged. 
 So that mvself bring water for mv stain. 
 
 Never believe, though in mv nature reigned 
 All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood. 
 
 That it could so preposterouslv be stained 
 To leave for nothing all thv sum of good : 
 
 For nothing this wide universe I call. 
 Save thou, mv rose: in it thou art mv all. 
 
 SL 
 
•;c 
 
 ■^' 
 
 RICHARD BARNEFIELD. 
 
 43 
 
 llicl)arb Barucficlb. 
 
 [Contemporary with Shakespeare. Birth uncertain.] 
 
 ^ The Nightingale. 
 
 ^ 
 
 S it fell upon a day 
 
 In the merry month of May, 
 Sitting in a pleasant shade 
 Which a grove of myrtles made, 
 Beasts did leap and birds did sing. 
 Trees did grow and plants did spring. 
 Every thing did banish moan 
 Save the nightingale alone. 
 She, poor bird, as all forlorn. 
 Leaned her breast against a thorn, 
 And there sung the dolefullest ditty 
 That to hear it was great pity. 
 Fie, fie, fie, now would she cry ; 
 Tereu, tereu, by and by : 
 That to hear her so complain 
 Scarce I could from tears refrain ; 
 For her griefs so lively shown 
 Made me think upon mine own. 
 
 :VL 
 
 ^.x 
 
%r 
 
 44 
 
 "N* 
 
 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 — Ah, thought I, thou mourn'st in vain, 
 
 None takes pity on thy pain : 
 
 Senseless trees, they cannot hear thee. 
 
 Ruthless beasts, they will not cheer thee 
 
 King Pandion, he is dead. 
 
 All thy friends are lapped in lead : 
 
 All thy fellow-birds do sing 
 
 Careless of thy sorrowing : 
 
 Even so, poor bird, like thee 
 
 None alive will pity me. 
 
SJJi HENRY WOTTON. 
 
 "^ 
 
 45 
 
 Sir i)t\\x\) UJottou 
 
 [Born 1568. Died 1639.] 
 
 "You Meaner Beauties."* 
 
 OU meaner beauties of the night 
 That poorly satisfy our eyes. 
 
 More by your number than your light ; 
 You common people of the skies, 
 What are you when the moon shall rise ? 
 
 Ye violets that first appear 
 
 By your pure purple mantles known, 
 Like the proud virgins of the year, 
 
 As if the Spring were all your own ; 
 
 What are you when the rose is blown ? 
 
 Ye curious chaunters of the wood, 
 
 That warble forth dame Nature's lays. 
 
 * Chambers attributes this song to Lord Darnley, king consort of Mary, 
 queen of Scots. There appears no doubt, after investigation, that it was 
 written by Wotton, and was addressed to the Queen of Bohemia, daughter 
 of James I. 
 
'K 
 
 46 
 
 BOOK OF BUBIFS. 
 
 Thinking your passion understood 
 
 By your weak accents — what's your praise, 
 When Philomel her yoice shall raise r 
 
 So when my mistress shall he seen, 
 In sweetness of her looks and mind ; 
 
 By yirtue first, then choice a queen, 
 Tell me it" she was not designed 
 Th' eclipse and glorv of her kind r 
 
'S- 
 
 sin ROBEltT AY TO UN. 
 
 47 
 
 Sir lUbcvt ^ijtciun 
 
 [Bjrn 1570. Died 1638.] 
 
 ^>^- 
 
 Woman's Inconstancy. 
 
 J-0\'ED thee once, I'll love no more, 
 Thine be the grief, as is the blame ;. 
 Thou art not what thou wert before, 
 
 What reason I should be the same ? 
 He that can love, unloved again. 
 Hath better store of love than brain ; 
 God send me love my debts to pay. 
 While unthrifts fool their love away. 
 
 Nothing could have my love o'erthrown, 
 If thou hadst still continued mine ; 
 
 Yea, if thou hadst remained thy own, 
 I might perchance have yet been thine 
 
 But thou thy freedom did recall, 
 
 That it thou might elsewhere enthral ; 
 
 And then how could I but disdain, 
 
 A captive's captive to remain ? 
 
 iJ^ 
 
KfT 
 
 48 BOO K F n UBIES. 
 
 When new desires had conquered thee, 
 And changed the object of thy will ; 
 
 It had been lethargy in me, 
 
 Not constancy, to love thee still. 
 
 Yea, it had been a sin to go 
 
 And prostitute affection so ; 
 
 Since we are taught our prayers to say, 
 
 To such as must to others prav. 
 
 Yet do thou glorv in thy choice. 
 
 Thy choice of his good fortune boast ; 
 I'll neither grieve nor yet rejoice. 
 
 To see him gain what I have lost : 
 The height of mv disdain shall be, 
 To laugh at him, to blush for thee. 
 To love thee still, but go no more 
 A begging at a beggar's door. 
 
 " I DO CONFESS." 
 
 no confess thou'rt smooth and tair. 
 
 And I might have gone near to love thee. 
 
 Had I not found the slightest prayer 
 That lips can speak had power to mo\ e thee ; 
 
 But I can let thee now alone. 
 
 As worthy to be lo\ cd by none. 
 
.V / li H B K It T A Y T U N. 49 
 
 I do confess tlicc sweet, hut find 
 
 Thee such an unthrift of thy sweets, 
 
 Thy favours are but hke the wind 
 That kisseth every thing it meets : 
 
 And since thou canst with more tlian one, 
 
 Thou'rt worthy to be kissed by none. 
 
 The morning rose that untouched stands. 
 Armed with her briers, doth sweetly smell, 
 
 But plucked and strained through ruder hands 
 Her sweets no longer with her dwell, 
 
 Her scent and beauty both are gone, 
 
 And leaves fall from her one by one. 
 
 Such fate ere long will thee betide, 
 
 When thou hast handled been awhile — 
 
 Like sere flowers to be thrown aside ; 
 And I shall sigh, while some will smile. 
 
 To see thy love to every one 
 
 Hath caused thee to be loved by none. 
 
 .k 
 
 % 
 
T — 
 
 
 -7i 
 
 50 
 
 BOOK OF Hl/BIES. 
 
 3cil)u Douuc. 
 
 [Born 1573. Died 1631.] 
 
 
 IJ^YtSSV.^ The Message. 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 END home mv long-straved eves to me. 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 J Which, oh ! too long ha\ c dwelt on thee , 
 
 
 # 
 
 But if they there have learned such ill. 
 
 
 Such forced fashions 
 
 
 
 And false passions, 
 
 
 
 That they be 
 
 
 
 Made by thee 
 
 
 
 Fit for no good sight, keep them still. 
 
 
 
 Send home my harmless heart again, 
 
 
 
 Which no unworthy thought could stain ; 
 
 
 
 But if it be taught by thine 
 
 
 
 To make jestings 
 
 
 
 Of protestings. 
 
 
 
 And break both 
 
 
 
 Word and oath, 
 
 
 
 Keep it still, 'tis none of mine. 
 
 
 s 
 
 
 — 3i 
 
JOHN DONNE. 
 
 Yet send me back my heart and eyes, 
 That I may know and sec thy lies, 
 And may joy and laugh when thou 
 Art in anguish 
 And dost languish 
 For some one 
 That will none, 
 Or prove false as thou dost now. 
 
 T n E P R o H I IS I TI () N . 
 
 iO 
 
 AKJl heed of loving me — 
 At least remember I forbade it thee •, 
 ) Not that I shall repair my unthrifty waste 
 
 Of breath and blood upon thy sighs and tears, 
 By being to thee then what to me thou wast ; 
 
 But so great joy our life at once outwears ; 
 Then, lest thy love by my death frustrate be, 
 If thou love me, take heed of loving me. 
 
 is- 
 
 Take heed of hating me, 
 Or too much triumph in the victory, 
 Not that I shall be mine own officer, 
 And hate with hate again retaliate ; 
 
 J 
 
Kr 
 
 HOOK OF nuniES. 
 
 But thou wilt lose the style of Conqueror, 
 
 If I, thy coiujuest, perish by thy hate ; 
 Then, lest my being nothing lessen thee, 
 If thou hate me, take heed of hating me. 
 
 Yet loye and hate me too, 
 So these extremes shall ne'er their office do ; 
 Love me, that I ma\- die the gentler way; 
 
 Hate me, because thy loye's too great for me 
 Or let these two themselyes, not me, decay ; 
 
 So shall I liye thy stage, not triumph be : 
 l^hen lest thy love thou hate, and me undo, 
 O let me live, yet love and hate me too. 
 
 
 .fe 
 
 Jit 
 
BEN J ON SON. 5.5 
 
 i3cu 3on5cin. 
 
 [Born 1574. Died 1637.] 
 
 " DiiiNK TO Me only." 
 
 RINK to me only with thine eyes, 
 
 And I will pledge with mine; 
 Or leave a kiss but in the cup, 
 
 And I'll not look for wine. 
 The thirst that from my soul doth rise 
 
 Doth ask a drink divine ; 
 But might I of Jove's nectar sip, 
 
 I would not change for thine. 
 
 I sent thee late a rosy wreath. 
 
 Not so much honouring thee. 
 As giving it a hope, that there 
 
 It would not withered be. 
 But thou thereon didst only breathe. 
 
 And sent it back to me ; 
 Since then, it grows and smells, I swear 
 
 Not of itself, but thee. 
 
p. 
 
 
 
 54 
 
 £00 A' OF HUB IBS. 
 [BoKN 1576. Died 1625.] 
 
 n 
 
 ^ 
 
 k 
 
 Song. 
 E A REST ! do not thou delay me, 
 
 
 
 
 Since thou know'st I must be gone ; 
 Wind and tide, 'tis thought, doth stay me, 
 
 
 
 But 'tis wind that must be blown 
 
 
 
 From that breath, whose native smell 
 Indian odours far excel. 
 
 Oh, then speak, thou fairest fair ? 
 
 Kill not him that vows to serve thee ; 
 But perfume this neighbouring air, 
 
 Else dull silence sure will starve me ; 
 'Tis a word that's quickly spoken, 
 Which being restrained, a heart is broken. 
 
 
 s 
 
 
 -3 
 
THOMAS CAREW. 55 
 
 ®l)oma0 (Harcru. 
 
 [Born is8o(?). Died 1639.] 
 
 Mediocrity in Love rejected. 
 
 -J 
 
 IVE nie more love, or more disdain ; 
 The torrid or the frozen zone 
 J^\^ Bring equal ease unto my pain, 
 
 The temperate aftords me none ; 
 Either extreme of love or hate 
 Is sweeter than a calm estate. 
 
 Give me a storm ; if it be love, 
 Like Danae in that golden shower, 
 
 I swim in pleasure ; if it prove 
 Disdain, that torrent will devour 
 
 My vulture-hopes ; and he's possessed 
 
 Of heaven that's but from hell released ; 
 
 Then crown my joys or cure my pain ; 
 
 Give me more love, or more disdain. 
 
 
 ^A 
 
56 
 
 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 ^^ Song. 
 
 E that loves a rosy cheek, 
 Or a coral lip admires, 
 
 Or from star-like eyes doth seek 
 Fuel to maintain its fires •, 
 
 As old Time makes these decay, 
 
 So his flames must waste away. 
 
 But a smooth and stedfast mind. 
 Gentle thoughts and calm desires. 
 
 Hearts with equal love combined. 
 Kindle never-dying fires -, 
 
 Where these are not, I despise 
 
 Lovely cheeks, or lips, or eyes. 
 
 -% 
 
m 
 
 WILLIAM, EARL OF STERLING. 
 
 57 
 
 Ulillimn ^Icj^anbcr, Oiarl of Sterling. 
 
 [Born 15S0. Died 1640.] 
 
 To Aurora, 
 
 IF thou knew'st how thou thyself dost harm, 
 And dost prejudge thy bhss, and spoil my 
 
 ^ Then thou wouldst melt the ice out of thy 
 
 ' breast, 
 
 And thy relenting heart would kindly warm. 
 
 
 O if thy pride did not our joys control, 
 
 What world of loving wonders shouldst thou see ! 
 For if I saw thee once transformed in me, 
 
 Then in thy bosom I would pour my soul ; 
 
 Then all my thoughts should in thy visage shine. 
 
 And if that aught mischanced thou shouldst not moan 
 Nor bear the burthen of thy griefs alone ; 
 
 No, I would have my share in what were thine : 
 
 And whilst we thus should make our sorrows one. 
 This happy harmony would make them none. 
 
% 3? 
 
 58 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 lUilliam JDvummoub, 
 
 [Born 1585. Died 1649.] 
 
 Summons to Love. 
 
 1HQ:BUS, arise! 
 And paint the sable skies 
 
 (^/ With azure, white, and red 
 Rouse Memnon's mother from her Tithon's bed, 
 That she may thy career with roses spread : 
 The nightingales thy coming each where sing : 
 
 Make an eternal spring ! 
 Give life to this dark world which lieth dead ; 
 
 Spread forth thy golden hair 
 In larger locks than thou wast wont before, 
 
 And emperor-like decore 
 With diadem of pearl thy temples fair : 
 
 Chase hence the ugly night. 
 Which serves but to make dear thy glorious light. 
 
 — This is that happy morn. 
 That day, long wished day 
 Of all mv life so dark 
 (If cruel stars have not my ruin sworn 
 
WILLIAM DRUMMOXD. 59 
 
 And fates my hopes betray), 
 Which, purelv white, deserves 
 An everlasting diamond should it mark. 
 This is the morn should bring unto this grove 
 My Love, to hear and recompense my love. 
 Fair king, who all preserves. 
 But show thy blushing beams. 
 And thou two sweeter eyes 
 Shalt see than those which by Peneus' streams 
 
 Did once thy heart surprise. 
 Now, Flora, deck thyself in fairest guise : 
 If that ye winds would hear 
 A voice surpassing far Amphion's lyre, 
 Your furious chiding stay ; 
 Let Zephyr only breathe. 
 And with her tresses play. 
 — The winds all silent are. 
 And Phoebus in his chair 
 Ensaffroning sea and air 
 Makes vanish every star : 
 Night, like a drunkard, reels 
 Beyond the hills, to show his flaming wheels : 
 The fields with flowers are decked in every hue, 
 The clouds with orient gold spangle their blue ; 
 Here is the plear.ant place — 
 And nothing wanting is, save She, alas ! 
 
 i% 
 
Kfr 
 
 BOOK OF BUSIES 
 
 The Qu ality of a Kiss. 
 
 -^1 HE kiss, with so much strife 
 ^ Which late I got (sweet heart), 
 Was it a sign of death, or was it Hfe ? 
 Of life it could not be, 
 For I bv it did sigh my soul to thee : 
 Nor was it death — death doth no joy impart. 
 Thou silent stand'st, ah ! what didst thou bequeath, 
 A dying life to me, or Hying death ? 
 
 •K* S -' • Sleeping Beauty. 
 
 •j/vXl SKiHT too dearly bought : 
 
 ^ . She sleeps, and though those eyes 
 •;• > Which lighten Cupid's sighs 
 ' Be closed, yet such a grace 
 
 Enyironeth that place. 
 That I through wonder to grow faint am brought 
 Suns, if eclipsed, you ha\ e such power di\ ine. 
 What power haye I t'endure you when you shine 
 
 iy 
 
 I 
 
% 
 
 RI CHARD ALLISON. 
 
 6l 
 
 Kicl)av-b '^Allison. 
 
 [From " An Houre's Recreation in Musicke." — 1606.] 
 
 "There is a Garden in her Face." 
 
 HERE is a garden in her face, 
 
 Where roses and white lilies grow ; 
 
 A heavenly paradise is that place, 
 Wherein all pleasant fruits do grow ; 
 
 There cherries grow that none may buy, 
 
 Till cherry-ripe themselves do cry. 
 
 Those cherries fairly do inclose 
 
 Of orient pearl a double row, 
 Which when her lovely laughter shows, 
 
 They look like rose-buds filled with snow 
 Yet them no peer nor prince may buy, 
 Till cherry-ripe themselves do cry.* 
 
 * It is probable that Herrick's Song of " Cherry Ripe" was suggest-.d 
 bv this stanza. 
 
 .te- 
 
 -% 
 
?S -7i? 
 
 62 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 Her eyes like angels watch them still, 
 Her brows like bended bows do stand, 
 
 Threatening with piercing frowns to kill 
 All that approach with eye or hand 
 
 Those sacred cherries to come nigh. 
 
 Till cherry-ripe themselves do cry. 
 
GILES FLETCHER. 
 
 63 
 
 a$ilc6 irietcl)er. 
 
 [Born 1588. Died 1623.] 
 
 Panglory's Wooing Song. 
 
 OVE is the blossom where there blows 
 Every thing that lives or grows ; 
 Love doth make the heavens to move, 
 And the sun doth burn in love : 
 Love, the strong and weak doth yoke, 
 And makes the ivy climb the oak, 
 Under whose shadows, lions wild. 
 Softened by love grow tame and mild. 
 Love, no med'cine can appease ; 
 He burns the fishes in the seas ; 
 Not all the skill his wounds can staunch 
 Not all the sea his thirst can quench. 
 Love did make the bloody spear 
 Once a leafy coat to wear. 
 While in his leaves there shrouded lay 
 Sweet birds, for love that sing and play ; 
 And of all love's joyful flame 
 I the bud and blossom am. 
 Only bend thy knee to me. 
 Thy wooing shall my winning be. 
 
^ — ■ " 
 
 04 ]i K F B UlUE S. 
 
 Sec, see the flowers that below 
 Now tVeshlv as tiie morning blow, 
 And of all, the virgin rose, 
 That as bright Auioia shows ; 
 How thev all unlea\ ed die 
 Losing their virginity ; 
 Like unto a summer shade, 
 But now born, and now thev fade, 
 Everv thing doth pass away ; 
 There is danger in delay. 
 Come, come, gather then the rose ; 
 Gather it, or it vou lose. 
 All the sand oi Tagus' shore, 
 h\ mv bosom casts its ore : 
 All the vallevs' swimming corn 
 Vo mv house is vearlv borne : 
 Everv grape of every vine 
 Is gladlv bruised to make me wine ; 
 ^^'hile ten thousand kings, as proud 
 To carry up mv train, have bowed, 
 And a world of ladies send me 
 From mv chamber to attend me : 
 All the stars in heaven that shine. 
 And ten thousand more are mine. 
 Only bend thv knee to me, 
 Thv wooins: shall thv winning be. 
 
 V 
 
Vc 
 
 GEORGE WITUER. 
 
 IS 
 
 65 
 
 jccrrge U)itl)cv, 
 
 [Born 1588. Died 1667.] 
 
 Shall I, wasting in despair." 
 
 HALL I, wasting in despaii, 
 ie because a woman's fair ? 
 Or make pale my cheeks with care, 
 'Cause another's rosy are ? 
 Be she fairer than the day, 
 Or the flowery meads in May, 
 If she be not so to me, 
 What care I how fair she be ? 
 
 Should my heart be grieved or pined 
 
 'Cause I see a woman kind ? 
 
 Or a well-disposed nature 
 
 Joined with a lovely feature ? 
 
 Be she meeker, kinder, than 
 
 Turtle-dove or pelican. 
 
 If she be not so to me. 
 
 What care I how kind she be ? 
 
 X 
 
% 
 
 b'c BOOK OF RUBIES 
 
 Shall a woman's virtues move 
 Me to perish for her love ? 
 Or, her well-deservings known. 
 Make me quite forget mv own ? 
 Be she with that goodness blest 
 Which mav g-ain her name of best. 
 If she be not such to me, 
 What care I how good she be ? 
 
 'Cause her fortune seems too high. 
 Shall I play the fool and die ? 
 Those that bear a noble mind. 
 Where thev \%-ant of riches find. 
 Think what with them they would do. 
 That without them dare to woo ; 
 And unless that mind I see. 
 What care I how great she be r 
 
 Great, or good, or kind, or fair, 
 I will ne'er the more despair : 
 If she love me, this believe, 
 I will die ere she shall grieve : 
 If she slight me when I woo, 
 I can scorn and let her go : 
 For, if she be not for me, 
 What care I for whom she be r 
 
 ^ 
 
 CS^ ^ 
 
GEORGE WITHER 
 
 67 
 
 Upon a Stolen Kiss. 
 
 OW g'^"'^!'^ '^^^^? '■'^th closed up those eyes 
 Which, waking, kept my boldest thoughts 
 in awe ; 
 ,^ And free access unto that sweet lip lies, 
 ^' From whence I long the rosy breath to 
 
 draw. 
 Methinks no wrong it were, if I should steal 
 
 From those two melting rubies, one poor kiss ; 
 None sees the theft that would the theft reveal, 
 
 Nor rob I her of aught what she can miss : 
 Nay, should I twenty kisses take away, 
 
 There would be little sign I would do so ; 
 Why then should I this robbery delay ? 
 
 Oh ! she may wake, and therewith angry grow ! 
 Well, if she do, I'll back restore that one. 
 And twenty hundred thousand more for loan. 
 
%■ 
 
 es 
 
 BOOK OF HTBIES, 
 
 lUilliam Cvciamc. 
 
 [Bo 
 
 590. 
 
 .645.] 
 
 iM**" " ^^ELCOME, Welcome, do I siKt 
 
 ELCOME, welcome, do I sing. 
 Far more welcome than the spring, 
 He that parteth from vou never, 
 / Shall enjoy a spring forever. 
 
 Love, that to the voice is near, 
 Breaking from your ivory pale, 
 
 Need not walk abroad to he;ir 
 The delightful nighting-ale. 
 
 Welcome, welcome, then I sing, 5cc. 
 
 Lo\ e, that looks still on vour eves. 
 Though the winter have begun 
 
 To benumb our arteries. 
 
 Shall not want the summer's sun. 
 
 Welcome, welcome, then I sint:, 5cc. 
 
 Love, that still mav see vour cheeks. 
 Where all rareness still reposes, 
 
WILLIAM liliOWNE. 
 
 'Tis a fool, if e'er he seeks 
 Other lilies, other roses. 
 
 Welcome, welcome, then I sing, &c. 
 
 Love, to whom your soft lip yields. 
 And perceives your breath in kissing. 
 
 All the odors of the fields 
 
 Never, never shall be missing. 
 
 Welcome, welcome, then I sing, &c. 
 
 Love, that question would anew 
 
 What fair Eden was of old, 
 Let him rightly study you. 
 
 And a brief of that behold. 
 
 Welcome, welcome, then I sing, &c. 
 
 65 
 
 Song. 
 
 HALL I tell you whom I love? 
 Hearken then awhile to me ; 
 And if such a woman prove 
 
 As I now shall verify; 
 
 Be assured, 'tis she or none 
 
 That I love, and love alone. 
 
 i!L 
 
 i% 
 
BOOK OF HUBIES. 
 
 Nature did her so much right, 
 As she scorns the help of art. 
 
 In as many virtues dight 
 
 As e'er vet embraced a heart. 
 
 So much good so truly tried, 
 
 Some for less were deified. 
 
 Wit she hath, without desire 
 
 To make known how much she hath ; 
 And her anger flames no higher 
 
 Than may fitly sweeten wrath. 
 Full of pity as may he, 
 Though perhaps not so to me. 
 
 Reason masters every sense, 
 
 And her virtues grace her birth ; 
 
 Lovely as all excellence. 
 
 Modest in her most of mirth : 
 
 Likelihood enough to prove 
 
 Onlv worth would kindle love. 
 
 Such she is, and if vou know 
 
 Such a one as I have sung ; 
 Be she brown, or fair, or so 
 
 That she be but somewhile voung ; 
 Be assured, 'tis she or none 
 That I love, and love alone. 
 
 R 
 
VST 
 
 iSf 
 
 BISHOP OF CHICHESTER. 
 
 I^mrn iiing, Bi5l)op of €l)iti)C5tcv, 
 
 [Born I 591. Died 1669.) 
 
 "Tell me no more." 
 
 ELL me no more how fair she is ; 
 
 I have no mind to hear 
 The story of that distant bliss 
 
 I never shall come near : 
 By sad experience I have found 
 That her perfection is my wound. 
 
 And tell me not how fond I am 
 
 To tempt my daring fate, 
 From whence no triumph ever came 
 
 But to repent too late : 
 There is some hope ere long I may 
 In silence dote myself away. 
 
 I ask no pity, Love, from thee, 
 Nor will thy justice blame, — 
 
 So that thou wilt not envy me 
 The glory of my flame. 
 
 Which crowns my heart whene'er it dies, 
 
 In that it falls her sacrifice. 
 
 .V^ 
 
 JJi 
 
?e 
 
 n 
 
 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 ^ 
 
 Kobcrt i^crridi 
 
 [Born J 591. Died 1671 (f).] 
 
 The Kiss: a Dialogue. 
 1. 
 MONG thy fancies tell me this : 
 What is the thing we call a kiss ? — 
 2. I shall resolve ye what it is : 
 
 It is a creature born and bred 
 Between the lips, all cherry red ; 
 By love and warm desires fed ; 
 Chor. And makes more soft the bridal bed. 
 
 2. It is an active flame, that flies 
 P'irst to the babies of the eyes, 
 And charms them there with lullabies ; 
 Chor. And stills the bride too when she cries. 
 
 Then to the chin, the cheek, the ear. 
 It frisks and flies ; now here, now there 
 'Tis now far oft^, and then 'tis near ; 
 Chor. And here, and there, and everywhere. 
 
 J 
 
F. 
 
 ROBERT HER RICK. 
 
 7i 
 
 I 
 
 . Has it a speaking virtue ? — 2. Yes. 
 . How spealcs it, say ? — 2. Do you but this, 
 Part your joined lips, then speaks your kiss 
 
 
 Chor 
 
 I 
 
 . And this love's sweetest language is. 
 
 . Has it a body ? — 2. Ay, and wings. 
 With thousand rare encolorings ; 
 And as it flies, it gently sings. 
 
 
 Cho> 
 
 . Love honey yields, but never stings. 
 
 
 
 "Go, Happy Rose." 
 
 
 s 
 
 l**' O) happy Rose, and, interwove 
 
 
 1 
 
 J9k ^^'^h other flowers, bind my love. 
 
 
 C' 
 
 ^-'J^ Tell her, too, she must not be 
 ^ Longer flowing, longer free. 
 
 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 That so oft hath fettered me. 
 
 
 
 Say, if she's fretful, I have bands 
 
 
 
 Of pearl and gold to bind her hands ; 
 
 
 
 Tell her, if she struggle still, 
 
 
 
 I have myrtle rods at will, 
 
 
 
 For to tame, though not to kill. 
 
 
 
 Take then my blessing thus, and go. 
 
 
 
 And tell her this, — but do not so ! 
 
 
 ii- 
 
 7 
 
 —3 
 
75? 
 
 74 BOOK OF BC'BIES. 
 
 Lest a handsome anger Hv, 
 Like a lightning from her eve, 
 And burn thee up, as well as L 
 
 To A K T H E A , 
 
 WHO MAY COMMAND HIM ANY THlNii 
 
 lOnie to live, and I will live 
 Thv Protestant to be : 
 Vj^ ^^ ^'^ ""'^ love, and I will gi\ e 
 ^ A loving heart to thee. 
 
 A heart as soft, a heart as kind, 
 
 A heart as sound and free 
 As in the whole world thou canst find, 
 
 That heart I'll give to thee. 
 
 Bid that heart stav, and it will stay, 
 
 To honor thv decree : 
 Or bid it languish quite away, 
 
 And 't shall do so for thee. 
 
 Bid me to weep, and I will weep 
 While I have eves to see : 
 
 And having none, vet I will keep 
 A heart to weep for thee. 
 
■^ 
 
 ROBERT UERRICK. 
 
 Bid me despair, and I'll despair, 
 
 Under that cypress-tree : 
 Or bid me die, and I will dare 
 
 E'en Death, to die for thee. 
 
 Thou art my life, my love, my heart, 
 
 The very eyes of me. 
 And hast command of every part. 
 
 To live and die for thee. 
 
 75 
 
 ,-^^ To DiANEME. 
 
 WEET, be not proud of those two eyes 
 Which star-like sparkle in their skies; 
 Nor be you proud, that you can see 
 All hearts your captives ; yours yet free : 
 Be you not proud of that rich hair 
 Which wantons with the love-sick air ; 
 Whenas that ruby which you wear. 
 Sunk from the tip of your soft ear. 
 Will last to be a precious stone 
 When all your world of beauty's gone. 
 
 3*. 
 
^. ■ 
 
 ^Dire of b>ir:h iai ciiri -.iiic?— £::. Fl-^irishsi frc-n: 1596 ID i&4<^] 
 
 GOOD-M ORRO W. 
 
 , Ji| Av. K. clouds awav, and welcome day, 
 ^\1th ni^ht we banish sorrow -. 
 ^^^ Sweet air blow soft, mount larks aloft. 
 To give mv love Good-morrow ! 
 
 Win^s from the wind to please her mind. 
 Notes ftom the hrk I'll borrow ; 
 
 Bird prune thy wii^:, mgbtingale sii^. 
 To give my love Good-monx»w ! 
 
 Wake from thv nest, robin red-breast. 
 
 Sing birds in every furrow. 
 And tirom each hill let music shrill 
 
 Give mv tair love Good-morrow ! 
 
 BlacklHrd and thrush, in ever\- bush. 
 Stare, linnet, and cock-sparrow. 
 
 You pretty elves amoi^ yourselves. 
 Sing mv fair love Good-morrow ! 
 
^ 
 
 THOMAS JIEYWOOD. 77 
 
 "Ye Little Birds." 
 
 y little birds that sit and sing 
 Amidst the shady vallies, 
 ''/ And see how Phillis sweetly walks 
 ^J Within her garden alleys ; 
 -5 Go, pretty birds, about her bower, 
 f Sing, pretty birds, she may not lower, 
 Ah, me ! methinks I see her frown,- - 
 Ye pretty wantons, warble. 
 
 Go tell her through your chirping bills 
 
 As you by me are bidden. 
 To her is only known my love. 
 
 Which from the world is hidden. 
 Go, pretty birds, and tell her so, 
 See that your notes strain not too low. 
 For still methinks I see her frown, — 
 
 Ye pretty wantons, warble. 
 
 Go tune your voices' harmony. 
 
 And sing I am her lover ; 
 Strain loud and sweet, that every note 
 
 With sweet content may move her ; 
 And she that hath the sweetest voice. 
 Tell her I will not change my choice ; 
 
BOOK OF BUBIE:?. 
 
 Yet still methlnks I see her frown, — 
 Ye pretty \s-antons, warble. 
 
 O tlv, make haste, — see, see, she falls 
 
 Into a prettv slumber ; 
 Sing round about her rosy bed. 
 
 That waking she may wonder. 
 Sing to her 'tis her loyer true 
 That sendeth loye by you and you. 
 And when you hear her kind reply. 
 
 Return with pleasant warblings. 
 
 i% 
 
K 
 
 WILLIAM STRODE. 
 
 79 
 
 linUiam Stro&c, 
 
 [Bonn 1600. Died 1644.J 
 
 J. 1 ^^ "My Love and I." 
 
 '^^ love and I tor kisses played ; 
 ^ She would keep stakes, I was content ; 
 1^"^ But when I won she would be paid, 
 
 This made me ask her what she meant ; 
 Nay, since I see (quoth she) you wrangle in vain, 
 Take your own kisses, give mc mine again. 
 
 JSL 
 
 
VST 
 
 80 
 
 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 lllilHam l^abinciton. 
 
 [Born 1605. Died 1654. J 
 
 C AS TAR A. 
 
 IKK the violet which, alone, 
 
 Prospers in some happv shade, 
 Mv Castara lives unknown, 
 
 To no looser eye betrayed, 
 For she's to herself untrue 
 Who delights i' th' public view. 
 
 Such is her beauty as no arts 
 
 Have enriched with borrowed grace 
 
 Her high birth no pride imparts, 
 For she blushes in her place. 
 
 Follv boasts a glorious blood. 
 
 She is noblest being good, 
 
 :}; ^ ;^; * * 
 
 She her throne makes reason climb. 
 While wild passions capti\ e lie : 
 
 And each article of time 
 
 Her pure thoughts to heaven flv: 
 
 All her vows religious be. 
 
 And her love she vows to me. 
 
 »jL 
 
— T« 
 
 -V / /; WILLI A M IJ A V E N . 1 A' T. 8 I 
 
 Sir llHlUam SDaucnant, 
 
 [BOBN 1605. UlRU 1668.J 
 
 I 
 
 Song. 
 
 HE lark now leaves his watery nest, 
 '^ And climbing shakes his dewy wings; 
 
 ( L-- He takes his window from the east, 
 
 And to implore your light, he sings, — 
 Awake, awake, the morn will never rise, 
 Till she can dress her beauty by your eyes. 
 
 The merchant hows unto the seaman's star, 
 The ploughman from the sun his season takes; 
 
 But still the lover wonders what they arc 
 
 Who look for day before his mistress wakes : 
 
 Awake, awake, break through your veils of lawn ! 
 
 Then draw your curtains, and begin the dawn. 
 
 "-^^^^/^^-^^^ 
 
 ^. 
 
•V" 
 
 82 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 (25muni iDaller. 
 
 [Born 1605. Died 16S7.J 
 
 .':C 
 
 On a Girdle. 
 
 HAT which her slender waist confined 
 \ Shall now my joyful temples bind : 
 No monarch but would give his crown 
 His arms might do what this has done. 
 
 It was my heaven's extremest sphere, 
 The pale which held that lovely dear : 
 My joy, my grief, my hope, my love, 
 Did all within this circle move. 
 
 A narrow compass ! and yet there 
 Dwelt all that's good, and all that's fair 
 Give me but what this riband bound, 
 Take all the rest the sun goes round. 
 
EDM UND WA LLER. 
 
 "Go, Lovely Rose!" 
 
 O, lovely Rose ! 
 
 Tell her that wastes her time and me, 
 That now she knows, 
 When I resemble her to thee. 
 How sweet and fair she seems to be. 
 
 Tell her that's young, 
 And shuns to have her graces spied, 
 
 That hadst thou sprung 
 In deserts, where no men abide. 
 Thou must have uncommended died. 
 
 Small is the worth 
 Of beauty from the light retired ; 
 
 Bid her come forth. 
 Suffer herself to be desired. 
 And not blush so to be admired. 
 
 Then die ! that she 
 The common fate of all things rare 
 
 May read in thee : 
 How small a part of time they share 
 That are so wondrous sweet and fair 
 
^^ 
 
 84 POOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 ^nonnmnu?. 
 
 \^' H 1: I. K N OF K I R K C O N N E L L. 
 
 'f^^lBf\(^ WISH I were where Helen lies ; 
 <, M/iiS Night and day on nic she cries -, 
 ^r O that I were where Helen lies, 
 "A On fair Kirkconnell lee. 
 
 Curst be the heart that thought the thought, 
 And curst the hand that iired the shot, 
 Wiien in my anus hiid 1 Ulcn dropt 
 And died to succour nie ! 
 
 Oh, think ye na my heart was sair, 
 \\nien m\ lo\ e dropt down and spake nae niair : 
 There did she swoon \vi' nieikle care. 
 On fair KirkciMincll lee. 
 
 As 1 went down the water side, 
 None but my foe to be my guide, 
 None but m\ toe to be m\- guide 
 On fair Kirkconncll lee — 
 
 I lighted down, my sword did draw, 
 1 hacked him in pieces sma', 
 
 is -d. 
 
?!r 
 
 ANONYMOUS. H5 
 
 I hacked him in pieces sma' 
 For her sake that died for me. 
 
 Oh, Helen, fair beyond compare ! 
 I'll weave a garland of thy hair 
 Shall bind my heart for evermair. 
 Until the day I dee. 
 
 Oh, that I were where Helen lies ! 
 Night and day on me she cries ; 
 Out of my bed she bids me rise, 
 Says, " Haste and come to me !" 
 
 Oh, Helen fair ! Oh, Helen chaste ! 
 Were I with thee I would be blest, 
 Where thou lies low and takes thy rest 
 On fair Kirkconnell lee. 
 
 I wish my grave were growing green ; 
 A winding sheet drawn o'er my e'en. 
 And I in Helen's arms lying 
 On fair Kirkconnell lee. 
 
 I wish I were where Helen lies ! 
 Night and day on me she cries. 
 And I am weary of the skies, 
 For her sake that died for me. 
 
 J 
 
Ve 
 
 "Sf 
 
 86 
 
 BO OK OF RUBIES. 
 
 "Waly, Waly." 
 
 H, walv, waly up the bank, 
 
 And waly, waly down the brae, 
 And waly, waly yon burn-side. 
 
 Where I and my love wont to gae ! 
 I leaned my bauk unto an aik. 
 
 And thoucht it was a trusty tree ; 
 But first it bowed and syne it brak : 
 
 Sae my true-love did lichtlie me. 
 
 Oh, walv, waly, but love be bonnie 
 
 A little time while it be new ; 
 But when its auld it waxes cauld. 
 
 And fades away like the morning dew. 
 Oh, wherefore should I busk mv heid. 
 
 Or wherefore should I kame my hair ? 
 For my true-love has me forsook, 
 
 And says he'll love me never mair. 
 
 Now Arthur's Seat shall be my bed. 
 
 The sheets shall ne'er be pressed bv nie, 
 
 St. Anton's well shall be my drink. 
 Since my true-love has forsaken me. 
 
 Martinmas wind, when wilt thou blaw. 
 And shake the green leaves oft' the tree f 
 
VST 
 
 ANONYMOUS. 8? 
 
 O gentle death, when wilt thou come ? 
 For of my life 1 am wearie. 
 
 *Tis not the fruit that freezes fell, 
 
 Nor blawing men's inclemencie ; 
 'Tis not sic cauld that makes me cry ; 
 
 But my love's heart's grown cauld to me. 
 When wc came in by Glasgow toun, 
 
 We were a comely sight to see ; 
 My love was clad in the black velvet, 
 
 And I mysel' in cramasic. 
 
 But had I wist before I kiss'd 
 
 That love had been so ill to win, 
 I'd locked my heart in a case of gold, 
 
 And pinn'd it wi' a siller pin. 
 Oh, oh, if my young babe was born, 
 
 And set upon the nurse's knee. 
 And I mysel' were dead and gone. 
 
 And the green grass growin' owcr me [ 
 
 
8« 
 
 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 lUilliain Olartmvigl)!, 
 
 [Born i6ii. Diko 1643.] 
 
 rt To Cupid. 
 
 HOU who didst never sec the hght, 
 a Nor know'st the pleasure of the sight, 
 But, always blinded, canst not say, 
 /'■J Now it is night, or now 'tis day ; 
 So captivate her sight, so blind her eye. 
 That still she love me, yet she ne'er know wli) . 
 
 Thou who dost wound us with such art. 
 We see no blood drop from the heart. 
 And, subt'ly cruel, leav'st no sign 
 To tell the blow or hand was thine ; 
 O gently, gently wound my fair, that she 
 May thence believe the wound did come from me. 
 
 ^^^K^ 
 
 o^ 
 
 w-<: 
 
 ss. 
 
JAMES, MARQUIS OF MONTH OS £. 
 
 89 
 
 Jam CO, JHarqub of iiloutroric. 
 
 [BOKN Ibl-J.. DlKU 1650.] 
 
 -..^ 
 
 I'll nI'Ver lovk thel more. 
 
 dear and only love, I pray 
 
 That little world of thee 
 Be governed by no other sway 
 
 But purest monarchy ; 
 For if confusion have a part, 
 
 Which virtuous souls abhor, 
 I'll call a synod in my heart, 
 
 And never love thee more. 
 
 As Alexander I will reign, 
 
 And I will reign alone ; 
 My thoughts did evermore disdain 
 
 A rival on my throne. 
 He either fears his fate too much 
 
 Or his deserts arc small. 
 Who dares not put it to the touch 
 
 To gain or lose it all. 
 
 ^. 
 
?s Sf 
 
 90 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 But I will reign and govern still, 
 
 And always give the law, 
 And have each subject at my will. 
 
 And all to stand in awe ; 
 But 'gainst my batteries if I find 
 
 Thou storm or vex me sore. 
 As if thou set me as a blind, 
 
 I'll never love thee more. 
 
 And in the empire of thy heart, 
 
 Where I should solely be, 
 If others do pretend a part. 
 
 Or dare to share with me ; 
 Or committees if thou erect. 
 
 Or go on such a score, 
 I'll smiling mock at thy neglect, 
 
 And never love thee more. 
 
 But if no faithless action stain 
 
 Thy love and constant word, 
 I'll make thee famous by my pen, 
 
 And glorious by my sword ; 
 I'll serve thee in such noble ways 
 
 As ne'er was known before ; 
 I'll deck and crown thy head with bays, 
 
 And love thee evermore. 
 
 k -34 
 
S/n JOHN SUCKLING. 
 
 91 
 
 Sir 3o[)n Suckling. 
 
 [BOHN 1613. J^'^" '641] 
 
 1-^,,/^ Song. 
 
 C3NEST lover, whosoever, 
 If in all thy love there ever 
 Was one wavering thought, if thy flame 
 Were not still even, still the same ; 
 Know this. 
 Thou lovest amiss, 
 And to love true 
 Thou must begin again, and love anew. 
 
 If when she appears i' th' room. 
 
 Thou dost not quake, art not struck duml 
 
 And if in striving this to cover 
 
 Dost not speak thy words twice over ; 
 
 Know this. 
 
 Thou lovest amiss. 
 And to love true 
 Thou must begin again, and love anew. 
 
VK 
 
 92 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 If fondly thou dost not mistake, 
 And all defects for graces take, 
 Pcrsuadest thyself that jests are broken, 
 When she has little or nothing spoken : 
 
 Know this, 
 
 lliou lovest amiss. 
 And to love true 
 Thou must begin again, and love anew. 
 
 If when thou appearest to be within. 
 Thou let'st not men ask, and ask again ; 
 And when thou answerest, if it be 
 To what was asked thee properly : 
 Know this, 
 Thou lovest amiss. 
 And to love true 
 Thou must begin again, and love anew. 
 
 If when thy stomach calls to cat, 
 Thou cut'st not fingers 'stead of meat ; 
 And with much gazing on her face. 
 Dost not rise hungry from the place : 
 Know this. 
 Thou lovest amiss. 
 And to love true 
 Thou must begin again, and love anew. 
 
 j 
 
SIi: JOHN SUCKLING. 
 
 IH 
 
 n 
 
 If by this thou dost discover 
 That thou art no perfect lover, 
 And desiring to love true 
 Thou dost begin to love anew : 
 
 Know this, 
 
 Thou lovest amiss. 
 And to love true 
 Thou must begin again, and love anew. 
 
94 
 
 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 "S 
 
 Jlicl)arb Crasljau), 
 
 [Born i6i5{?). Dikd 165a.] 
 
 L 
 
 'The Dew no more shall weep." 
 
 HE dew no more shall weep. 
 
 The primrose's pale cheek to deck ; 
 
 The dew no more shall sleep 
 Nuzzled in the lily's neck : 
 
 Much rather would it tremble here, 
 
 And leave them both to be thy tear. 
 
 Not the soft gold which 
 
 Steals from the amber-weeping tree, 
 Makes sorrow half so rich 
 
 As the drops distilled from thee : 
 Sorrow's best jewels be in these 
 Caskets, of which Heaven keeps the keys. 
 
 When Sorrow would be seen 
 
 In her bright majesty. 
 For she is a Queen, 
 
 Then she is dressed by none but thee ; 
 Then, and only then, she wears 
 Her richest pearls ; — I mean thy tears. 
 
 M, 
 
RICHARD CRASH AW. 
 
 Not in the evening's eyes, 
 
 When they red with weeping are 
 For the sun that dies, 
 
 Sits Sorrow with a face so fair : 
 Nowhere but here doth meet 
 Sweetness so sad, sadness so sweet. 
 
 TS 
 
 95 
 
 Wishes for the supposed Mistress. 
 
 HOE'ER she be, 
 
 That not impossible She 
 That shall command my heart and me 
 
 Where'er she lie. 
 Locked up from mortal eye 
 In shady leaves of destiny ; 
 
 Till that ripe birth 
 Of studied Fate stand forth. 
 And teach her fair steps to our earth ; 
 
 Till that divine 
 Idea take a shrine 
 Of crystal flesh, through which to shine 
 
 ^ 
 
-3? 
 
 96 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 — Meet you her my Wishes, 
 Bespeak her to my blisses, 
 And be ye called, my absent kisses. 
 
 I wish her beauty 
 That owes not all its duty 
 To gaudv tire, or glistering shoe-tie : 
 
 Something more than 
 
 Taffeta or tissue can. 
 
 Or rampant feather, or rich fan. 
 
 A face that's best 
 By its own beauty drest, 
 And can alone command the rest : 
 
 A face made up 
 Out of no other shop 
 Than what Nature's white hand sets ope. 
 
 Svdneian showers 
 Of sweet discourse, whose powers 
 Can crown old Winter's head with flowers. 
 
 Whate'er delight 
 Can make dav's forehead bright. 
 Or o;i\ e down to the winsrs of nii^ht. 
 
 te- 
 
?r 
 
 RICHARD CI! A SHAW. 
 
 Soft, silken hours, 
 Open suns, shady bowers ; 
 'Bove all, nothing within that lowers. 
 
 Days, that need borrow 
 No part of their good-morrow 
 P rom a fore-spent night of sorrow : 
 
 Days, that in spite 
 Of darkness, by the light 
 Of a clear mind are day all night. 
 
 Life, that dares send 
 A challenge to his end. 
 And when it comes, says, " Welcome, friend." 
 
 I wish her store 
 Of worth may leave her poor 
 Of wishes ; and I wish — no more. 
 
 — Now if Time knows 
 That Her, whose radiant brows 
 Weave them a garland of my vows ;, 
 
 Her that dares be 
 What these lines wish to see : 
 I seek no further, it is She. 
 9 
 
 97 
 
 -3i 
 
7^ 
 
 98 BOOK OF HUB IBS. 
 
 'Tis She, and here, 
 Lo ! 1 unclothe and clear 
 My wishes, cloudy character. 
 
 Such worth as this is 
 Shall tix m\ fl\ ing wishes. 
 And determine them to kisses. 
 
 Let her full glorv, 
 My fancies, flv before ve ; 
 Be \e m\ fictions: — but her story, 
 
 is. 
 
/.' f C HA li !> L () VK L A (J K. 99 
 
 Uicl)avi> Couclacc. 
 
 [Born 1618. Died 1658.J 
 
 " Ti-Li, M)-: Noi', S\\'i;i-; 
 
 f^ ELL H^c not, sweet, 1 am iinkiiul, 
 
 "^ That from the nunnery 
 (j Of thy ehaste breast and quiet niiiul, 
 '^^ To war and arms I flv. 
 
 True, a new mistress wow 1 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 honor more. 
 
 
 .^. 
 
Sir — ^ 
 
 100 BOOK OF BUBIES. 
 
 [Born i6iS. Dikd 1667.] 
 
 J^ \^ A Supplication. 
 
 WAKE, awake, my Lyre ! 
 
 And tell thy silent master's humble tale 
 In sounds that may pieyail ; 
 
 Sounds that gentle thouo;hts inspire : 
 •i Though so exalted she 
 
 And I so lowly he, 
 Tell her, such different notes make all thy harmony 
 
 Hark ! how the strings awake : 
 And though the moying hand approach not near, 
 Themselves with awful fear 
 A kind of numerous trembling make. 
 Now all thy forces try ; 
 Now all thy charms apply ; 
 Reyenge upon her ear the conquests of her eye. 
 
 Weak Lyre ! thy yirtue sure 
 Is useless here, since thou art only found 
 
A!ii;MI.\M C(i\VLt:Y. I 
 
 To cure, aiul not to wouiul, 
 And she t(» wound, hut not to cure. 
 Too weak too wilt thou pro\'e 
 My passion to remo\ e ; 
 Physic to other ills, thou'rt nourishment to love. 
 
 Sleep, sleep again, my Lyre ! 
 Kor thou canst never tell my humhle tale 
 In sounds that will prevail, 
 Nor gentle thoughts in her inspire ; 
 All thy vain mirth lay by, 
 Bid thy strings silent lie, 
 Sleep, sleep again, my L) re, and let thy master die. 
 
 Incons'iant. 
 
 A ! HA ! yo" think you've killed mv tame 
 By this not understood, yet common name ; 
 A name that's full and proper when assigned 
 '1\) womankind ; 
 But when you call us so. 
 It can at best but tor a metaphor go. 
 
 Can you the shore inconstant call, 
 Which still, as waves pass bv, embraces all, 
 9* 
 
y^ 
 
 102 BOOK OF JiUBIES. 
 
 That had as lief the same waves always love, 
 Did they not from him move ; 
 Or can vou fiuilt with pilots find 
 
 For changing course, yet never blame the wind ? 
 
 Since drunk with vanitv vou fell. 
 The things turn round to you that steadfast dwel 
 And you yourself who from us take your flight, 
 Wonder to find us out of sight ; 
 So the same error seizes you. 
 As men in motion think the trees mo\e too. 
 
 "*(/. The Disco \'ERY. 
 
 "'S^I^'-'Y Heaven, I'll tell her boldly that 'tis she 
 J^^^ Why should she ashamed or angry be 
 ^^"y To be beIo\cd by me ? 
 
 V^ The gods may give their altars o'er, 
 V They'll smoke but seldom any more. 
 If none but happy men must them adore. 
 
 The lightning which tall oaks oppose in vain, 
 To strike sometimes does not disdain 
 The humble furzes of the plain. 
 
 Jss 24 
 
^ 
 
 ABRAHAM COWLEY. 103 
 
 She being so high, and I so low, 
 Her power by this does greater show, 
 Who at such distance gives so sure a blow. 
 
 Compared with her all things so worthless prove, 
 
 That naught on earth can to'ards her move. 
 
 Till 't be exalted by her love. 
 
 Equal to her, alas ! there's none ; 
 
 She like a deity is grown. 
 That must create, or else must be alone. 
 
 If there be man who thinks himself so high 
 
 As to pretend equality. 
 
 He deserves her less than I ; 
 
 For he would cheat for his relief. 
 
 And one would give with lesser grief 
 To an undeserving beggar than a thief. 
 
 X» 
 
%r 
 
 104 
 
 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 "Sr 
 
 QVlcxanbcv Bvomc 
 
 [Born 1620. Died 1666.] 
 
 The Resolve. 
 
 il'ELL '"^ "°^ °^ ^ ^^^^ that's fair, 
 1>a-.-4^ Nor lip and cheek that's red, 
 Nor of the tresses of her hair, 
 
 Nor curls in order laid ; 
 Nor of a rare seraphic voice, 
 
 That like an angel sings ; 
 Though, if I were to take mv choice, 
 
 I would have all these things. 
 But if that thou wilt have me love, 
 
 And it nuist be a she ; 
 The onlv argument can move 
 
 Is, that she will love me. 
 
 The glories of your ladies be 
 But metaphors of things, 
 
 And but resemble what we see 
 Each common object brings. 
 
 Roses outred their lips and cheekj 
 Lilies their whiteness stain : 
 
7S 
 
 A L EX A ND E R B It ME. 
 
 What fool is he that shadow seeks, 
 And may the substance gain ? 
 
 Then, if thou'It have me love a lass, 
 Let it be one that's kind. 
 
 Else I'm a servant to the glass 
 That's with canary lined. 
 
 i% 
 
r 
 
 o() HOOK or ju-juks. 
 
 ^uiivciu iHiuucl. 
 
 [BoKN lOio, Dim i()7S.j 
 
 'rill Ph. ri'RK oi- T. C\ in a I'kosim-.ci' of 
 
 C I'l.OW KKS. 
 
 f -^■ 
 
 -i^^^vi^KE with what simplicity 
 |r^>\f ''^'^ lu luph In-oiits her goUlcii <,la\ s ! 
 V ^ -^ li> the «:rf(.M\ mass she lo\cs to ho, 
 - Vt And thcro with lu-r fair aspect taiiu's 
 
 — — ^ 
 
 
 
 
 \ l"hc wiKler tlowors, aiul gives them names; 
 
 
 
 Hut onl\ with the roses pla\ s, 
 
 
 
 And them does tell 
 
 
 
 What colour best becomes them, and what smell. 
 
 
 
 W ho can toietell tor what high cause 
 
 
 
 This darling o\ the gods was born r 
 
 
 
 Sec, this is she whose chaster laws 
 
 
 
 The wanton l.o\e shall one da\ tear. 
 
 
 
 And, under her command severe. 
 
 
 
 See his bow broke and ensigns torn. 
 
 
 
 llapp\ who can 
 
 
 
 Appease this \irtuous enenn oi man! 
 
 
 J« 
 
 
 % 
 
J \ hi! i:\\' /i/,i /.' I'A'/-. 107 
 
 () then let nif in time conipouiul, 
 
 Aiul parlc-y will) thosf coiKiucrin^ I'ycs ; 
 Krc tlu-y liavc trird their force- to woiiiul, 
 Krc with thc-ir glancing whcc-ls they chive 
 in triiinii)h over hearts that strive-, 
 
 And them tliat \ielcl hut more despise, 
 I A-t un- he hiid 
 Where I may see the gh)ry from some sliadc. 
 
 Meanwhile, whilst every verdant thing 
 
 Itself does at thy heauty charm, 
 Reform the eirors of the spring ; 
 Make that the tulips may have share 
 Of sweetness, seeing they are fair ; 
 And roses of their thorns disarm : 
 Hilt most procm-c 
 That violets may a longer age endure. 
 
 Hut oh, young hc-auly of the- woods, 
 
 Whom nature- courts with fruit and flowers, 
 (iathcr the flowers, hut spare the huds ■, 
 Lest Flora, angry at thy crimc- 
 'Po kill her infants in their prime. 
 
 Should (piickly make the example \()urs ; 
 And, ere we see, 
 Nip in the hlossom all our hopes in tliee. 
 
 .%. 
 
io8 
 
 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 -^ 
 
 3ci|)n SDiniJcu 
 
 [BoKN 1631. Died 1701.] 
 
 .,*::-<S^ o' *' Ah ! HOW SWKKT !" 
 
 ^^11' how sweet it is to love ! 
 
 Ah ! how gay is young desire ; 
 Aiul what pleasing pains we prove, 
 
 F\\'hen we first approach love's tire :- 
 Pains of love are sweeter far 
 *" Than all other pleasures are.* 
 
 Sighs which are from lo\ers blown 
 V>o but gently heave the heart : 
 
 E'en the tears thev slu\l alone. 
 
 Cure, like trickling balm, their smart. 
 
 Lovers, when they lose their breath. 
 
 Bleed awav \\\ eas\ death. 
 
 Love and Time with reverence use. 
 Treat them like a parting friend j 
 
 Burns h.is used this idea in one of his songs. Ho shapes it thus ; 
 " 'Twcre better for thee despairing, 
 
 Than aught in the world beside. Jessie." 
 
 fe> 
 
 ^ 
 
./ () II N I) R Y I) a; n. 
 
 Nor the golden gifts refuse 
 
 Which in youth sincere they send 
 For each year their price is more, 
 And they less simple than hefore. 
 
 Love, like spring-tides full and high, 
 Swells in every youthful vein ; 
 
 But each tide does less supply. 
 Till they (juite shrink in again. 
 
 If a flow in age appear, 
 
 ' lis but rain, and runs not clear. 
 
 109 
 
 " Fair, Swi:i:r, anu Youni;." 
 
 [^ AIR, sweet, and young, receive a pri/e 
 Reserved for your victorious eyes ; 
 
 /•■'^ From crowds, whom at your feet you see, 
 C) pity and distinguish me ! 
 As I, from thousand beauties mcMe 
 Distinguish you, and only you adore. 
 
 Your face for contpiest was designed •, 
 Your every motion charms my mind; 
 
'p, 1^ 
 
 no BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 Angels, when you your silence break, 
 
 Forget their hymns to hear you speak ; 
 
 But when at once they hear and view, 
 
 Are loth to mount, and long to stay with you. 
 
 No graces can your form improve. 
 But all are lost unless you love ; 
 While that sweet passion you disdain, 
 Your veil and beauty are in vain : 
 In pity then prevent my fate. 
 For after dying, all reprieve's too late. 
 
 ^V ^^"""^"^^^ 
 
Vcr 
 
 SIB GEORGE ETIIEREGE. 
 
 Sir ©corgc iEtljcvcgc. 
 
 [Born i636(?). Died 1683.] 
 
 "Cease, anxious World." 
 
 EASE, anxious world, your fruitl-ess pain, 
 
 To grasp forbidden store ; 
 Your sturdy labors shall prove vain. 
 
 Your alchemy unblest ; 
 Whilst seeds of far more precious ore 
 
 Are ripened in my breast. 
 
 My breast the forge of happier love, 
 
 Where my Lucinda lives ; 
 And the rich stock does so improve. 
 
 As she her art employs. 
 That every smile and touch she gives 
 
 Turns all to golden joys. 
 
 Since then we can such treasures raise. 
 
 Let's no expense refuse ; 
 In love let's lay out all our days ; 
 
 How can we e'er be poor, 
 When every blessing that we use 
 
 Beo-ets a thousand more ? 
 
 .k. 
 
y^ 
 
 112 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 ari)arlc5 SacliDillc, OJai'l of JDovsct 
 
 [Born 1637. Died 1706. J 
 
 "To ALL YOU Ladies." 
 
 O all you ladies now on land, 
 'v\^J*X> We men at sea indite •, 
 
 But first would have you understand 
 " '^ How hard it is to write ; 
 
 The Muses now, and Neptune too, 
 We must implore to write to you. 
 With a fa, la, la, la, la. 
 
 For though the Muses should prove kind, 
 
 And fill our empty brain ; 
 Yet if rough Neptune rouse the wind. 
 
 To wave the azure main. 
 Our paper, pen and ink, and we. 
 Roll up and down in ships at sea. 
 
 With a fa, la, la, la, la. 
 
 Then if we write not by each post. 
 
 Think not we are unkind ; 
 Nor yet conclude our ships are lost 
 
 By Dutchmen or by wind : 
 
 y,. 
 
CHARLES, EARL OF DORSET. 
 
 Our tears we'll send a speedier way — 
 The tide shall bring them twice a day. 
 With a fa, la, la, la, la. 
 
 The king, with wonder and surprise, 
 Will swear the seas grow bold ; 
 
 Because the tides will higher rise 
 Than e'er they did of old ; 
 
 But let him know it is our tears 
 
 Bring floods of grief to Whitehall stairs. 
 With a fa, la, la, la, la. 
 
 Should foggy Opdam chance to know 
 
 Our sad and dismal story. 
 The Dutch would scorn so weak a foe, 
 
 And quit their fort at Goree : 
 For what resistance can they find 
 From men who've left their hearts behind ? 
 
 With a fa, la, la, la, la. 
 
 Let wind and weather do its worst, 
 
 Be ye to us but kind ; 
 Let Dutchmen vapor, Spaniards curse, 
 
 No sorrow shall we find ; 
 'Tis then no matter how things go. 
 Or who's our friend, or who's our foe. 
 
 With a fa, la, la, la, la. 
 lo* 
 
v^ ■ 5f 
 
 114 BOOK OF K UBI K S. 
 
 To pass our tedious hours away, 
 
 We throw a merry main, 
 Or else at serious ombre plav ; 
 
 But why should we in vain 
 Each other's ruin thus pursue ? 
 We were uiidoiie when we left \ou. 
 
 With a fa, la, la, la, la. 
 
 Hut now our fears tempestuous grow, 
 
 And cast our hopes awav ; 
 W^hilst you, rcg-ardless of our woe, 
 
 Sit careless at a play : 
 Periiaps permit some happier man 
 1\) kiss your hand or Hirt \'our fan. 
 
 With a fa, la, la, la, la. 
 
 When any mournful tunc \ ou hear 
 
 That dies in every nt)te. 
 As if it sighed with each man's care 
 
 For being so remote ; 
 Then think iiow often lo\ e we've made 
 To you, when all those tunes were pla\ ed. 
 With a fa, la, la, la, la. 
 
 In justice \ ou cannot refuse 
 To think ot' our distress. 
 
 iil. 
 
 J 
 
CJIA li L /•; .V, K . I /.' L () F I) O R S K T. 
 
 When wc for hopes of honors lose 
 
 Our certain happiness : 
 All those designs are hut to prove 
 Ourselves more worthy of yoi"' love. 
 
 With a fa, la, la, la, la. 
 
 And now we've told you all our loves, 
 And likewise all our tears ; 
 
 In hopes this declaration moves 
 Some pity for owv tears ; 
 
 Let's hear of no inconstancy, 
 
 We have too much of that at sea. 
 With a fa, la, la, la, la. 
 
 '15 
 
ii6 
 
 BOOK OF liU BIES. 
 
 Sir ^l)avicri ScMcij. 
 
 [Born 1639. Died 1701.] 
 
 Child and Maiden. 
 
 [♦ H, Chloris ! could I now but sit 
 
 As unconcerned as when 
 Your infant beauty could beget 
 
 No happiness or pain ! 
 When I the dawn used to admire, 
 
 And praised the coming day, 
 I little thought the rising fire 
 
 Would take my rest away. 
 
 Your charms in harmless childhood lay 
 
 Like metals in a mine ; 
 Age from no face takes more away 
 
 Than youth concealed in thine. 
 But as your charms insensibly 
 
 To their perfection prest, 
 So love as unpercei\ed did fly, 
 
 And centered in mv breast. 
 
 ^. 
 
,S' / A' V n A li L K S ,S' E D L EY. 
 
 —^ 
 
 117 
 
 My passion with your beauty grew, 
 
 While Cupid at my heart, 
 Still, as his mother favoured you, 
 
 Threw a new flaming dart : 
 Each gloried in their wanton part ; 
 
 To make a lover, he 
 Employed the utmost of his art — 
 
 To make a beauty, she. 
 
BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 [Born 1644. Died 1678. J 
 
 k 
 
 The Deposition. 
 
 HOUGH when I loved thee thou vvert fair, 
 
 Thou art no longer so : 
 Those glories, all the pride they wear 
 
 Unto opinion owe : 
 Beauties, like stars, in borrowed lustre shine. 
 And 'twas my love that gave thee thine. 
 
 The flames that dwelt within thine eye 
 
 Do now with mine expire ; 
 Thy brightest graces fade and die 
 At once with my desire. 
 Love's fires thus mutual influence return ; 
 Thine cease to shine when mine to burn. 
 
 Then, proud Celinda, hope no more 
 
 To be implored or wooed ; 
 Since bv thy scorn thou dost restore 
 The wealth my love bestowed ; 
 And thy despised disdain too late shall find 
 That none are fair but who are kind. 
 
^ 
 
 JOHN, EARL OF ROCHESTER. I ig 
 
 3[ol)u iDilmot, Orarl of llocl)C5tcr. 
 
 [Burn 1647. Died 1680.] 
 
 "HiM^ 
 
 Song. 
 
 HILE on these lovely looks I gaze. 
 
 To see a wretch pursuing, 
 In raptures of a blest amaze, 
 
 His pleasing, happy ruin ; 
 'Tis not for pity that I move ; 
 
 His fate is too aspiring. 
 Whose heart, broke with a load of love. 
 
 Dies wishing and admiring. 
 
 But if this murder you'd forego, 
 
 Your slave from death removing. 
 Let me your art of charming know, 
 
 Or learn you mine of loving. 
 But whether life or death betide, 
 
 In love 'tis equal measure ; 
 The victor lives with empty pride. 
 
 The vanquished die with pleasure. 
 
 i% 
 
BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 fvanciei ^ttcvburri, Bp. of UocljCGtcv. 
 
 [Born 1662. Died 173a.] 
 
 Th k Lov k r's V O \V. 
 
 AIR S\l\ia, cease to blame mv youth 
 For having loved before; 
 \^ For men, till thev have learned the truth, 
 Stranire deities adore. 
 
 My heart, 'tis true, hath often ranged. 
 
 Like bees on gaudy flowers ; 
 And many a thousand loves hath changed, 
 
 Till it was fixed on yours. 
 
 But, Sylvia, when I saw those eyes, 
 'Tvvas soon determined there ; 
 
 Stars miglit as well forsake the skies, 
 And vanish into air. 
 
 When I from this great rule do err. 
 
 New beauties to adore. 
 May I again turn wanderer. 
 
 And never settle more. 
 
 .3i 
 
WILLIAM WALSH. 
 
 lUilliam lUolsl) 
 
 [Born 1 663. Dikd 1709.] 
 
 Rivalry in Lovk. 
 
 ' I' all the torments, all the cares, 
 
 With which our lives are curst 
 Of all the plagues a lover bears, 
 
 Sure rivals are the worst ! 
 By partners of each other kind, 
 
 Affections easier grow ; 
 In love alone we hate to find 
 
 Companions of our woe. 
 
 Sylvia, for all the pangs you see 
 
 Are labouring in my breast, 
 I beg not you would favour nic, 
 
 Would you but slight the rest , 
 How great soe'er your rigors are. 
 
 With them alone I'll cope ; 
 I can endure my own despair, 
 
 Hut not another's hope. 
 1 1 
 
BOOK OF nun IF s. 
 
 iHattl)cai JJviov 
 
 [BORM 1664. D»D 1711.] 
 
 SoNt;, 
 
 HE nuTchiint, to secure his treasure, 
 (^\)iue\ s it in a bc)n\)\vecl name ; 
 
 Kuphelia serves to grace m\ measure, 
 But Cloe is mv real flame. 
 
 M\- softest verse, mv darling lyre 
 Upon iMiphelia's toilet lav — 
 
 When C^loe noted her desire 
 
 That 1 should sing, that I should plav 
 
 My lyre I tune, my voice I raise, 
 
 But with mv numbers mix m\ sighs ; 
 
 And whilst 1 sing Kuphelia's praise, 
 I fix m\- soul on Cloe's e\es. 
 
 k 
 
 Fair Cloe blushed : Muphelia frowned -, 
 I sung and ga/.cd ; 1 played and tremblei 
 
 And Venus to the Loves around 
 
 Remarked how ill we all dissembled. 
 
Ve 
 
 A A i: ()K /J / LL. 
 
 '2J 
 
 [BOBN 1684-5. D'" '749-50.] 
 
 M 
 
 ()])KS r Y. 
 
 S lamps hum silent with unconscious liglit, 
 So modest ease in heauty shines most hright : 
 ^ Unaiming charms with edge resistless fall, 
 And she who means no mischief does it all. 
 
 So N ^ 
 
 !»k H ' forhear to bid me slight her, 
 Soul and senses take her part ; 
 Could my death itself delight her, 
 Life should leap to leave my heart. 
 
 C'haiiiied with woe, and pleased with pai 
 
 Though the tender flame were dying. 
 Love would light it at her eyes ; 
 
 Or, her tuneful voice applying. 
 Through my ear my soul surprise. 
 
 Deaf, I see the fate I shun ; 
 
 niind, [ fear I am undone. 
 
 J 
 
r 
 
 
 
 — S 
 
 
 124 
 
 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 Samce ®l)cimricin. 
 
 
 
 ^3. 
 
 [Born 1700. Dieb 1748.] 
 
 
 J . Song. 
 -n'MP C^RKVKR, Fortune, wilt thou prove 
 
 
 J 
 
 M* An unrelenting foe to Love, 
 
 
 
 J 
 
 '^^'^ And when we meet a mutual heart, 
 
 
 
 ^1 
 
 Come in between and bid us part ? 
 
 
 
 f 
 
 Bid us sigh on from day to day, 
 And wish and wish the soul away; 
 Till vouth and genial years are flown. 
 And all the life of life is gone ? 
 
 But busy, busv still art thou, 
 To bind the loveless, joyless vow. 
 The heart from pleasure to delude. 
 To join the gentle to the rude. 
 
 For once, O Fortune, hear mv praver. 
 And I absolve thy future care ; 
 All other blessings I resign, 
 Make but the dear Amanda mine. 
 
 
 ?L 
 
 
 
 — 3i 
 
|i; 
 
 
 
 DAVID MALLKT. 
 
 
 ?Dai)i5 iHallct. 
 
 
 [Born 1700 (?). Dieo 1765.] 
 
 
 125 
 
 ■^^ So.o. 
 
 "^ smiling morn, the breathing spring, 
 Invite the tuneful birds to sing: 
 And wliile they warble from eaeh spray, 
 Love melts the universal lay. 
 ivct us, Amanda, timely wise. 
 Like then\ improve the hour that flies ; 
 And, in soft raptures, waste the day, 
 Among the shades of Endermay. 
 
 Too soon the winter of the year. 
 And age, life's winter, will appear : 
 At this, thy living blocMii must fade ; 
 As that will strip the verdant shade. 
 Our taste of pleasure then is o'er; 
 The feathered songsters love no more : 
 And when they droop and we decay, 
 Adieu the shades of Endermay. 
 
K 
 
 I2() 
 
 BOOK OF HUBIES. 
 
 llHlliam |JattieoiK 
 
 [Born 1706. Dikd 1717.J 
 
 To HKR Ring. 
 
 |ri^'*LES T onuinieiu ! how happv is thy snare, 
 
 IsL-;-^ \o bind the siunvv tiiigor oi' m\ fair ! 
 / T C) could 1 loarn th\ nice cooicive art, 
 
 Ami, as thou biiui'st her tlngers, bind her 
 heart ! 
 
 Not eastern diadems hke tliee ean shine, 
 Fed from her brighter eves with beams divine ; 
 Nor can their mightiest monarch's power command 
 So large an empire as th\' charmer's hand. 
 
 O could tin form thv fond admirer wear. 
 Tin \ er\ likeness should in all appear; 
 M\ endless love thy endless round should show, 
 And my heart flaming, for thv diamond glow. 
 
 ilS. 
 
 J% 
 
G K li a M, L R D L Y T TK L T O N. 
 
 127 
 
 t 
 
 (!$ccivgc, Corb Cijttclton 
 
 [Burn 1709. Dud 177J.) 
 
 ,^ "Ti:!.!, Me, my IIkart." 
 
 HEN Delia on the plain appears, 
 r\" Y Awed by a tliousaiul tender fears, 
 
 • 1 would approach, but dare not move ; — 
 'I'ell me, my heart, if this be love? 
 
 Whene'er she speaks, my ravished ear 
 No other voice than hers can hear. 
 No other wit but hers approve ;- 
 Tell me, my heart, if this be love? 
 
 If she some other swain commend. 
 Though I was once his fondest friend, 
 
 I lis instant enemy I prove ; — 
 Tell me, my heart, if this be love? 
 
 When she is absent, I no more 
 Delight in all that pleased before. 
 The clearest spring, the shadiest grove ; 
 Tell me, my heart, if this be love? 
 
128 
 
 BOOK OF li UBIES. 
 
 When, fond of power, of beauty vain. 
 Her nets she spreads for every swain, 
 I strove to hate, but \'ainlv strove •, — 
 Tell me, niv heart, if this be love ? 
 
 
 J/. 
 
TOBIA S SMOLL K T T, M. D. 
 
 129 
 
 ©abias 0moUctt, ill 53. 
 
 [Born 1720. Died 1774.] 
 
 Song. 
 
 fix her — 'twere a task as vain 
 To count the April drops of rain, 
 To sow in Afric's barren soil, 
 Or tempests hold within a toil. 
 
 I know it, friend, she's light as air, 
 False as the fowler's artful snare ; 
 Inconstant as the passing wind. 
 As winter's dreary frost unkind. 
 
 She's such a miser too in love. 
 Its joys she'll neither share nor prove ; 
 Though hundreds of gallants await 
 From her victorious eyes their fate. 
 
 Blushing at such inglorious reign, 
 I sometimes strive to break her chain 
 My reason summon to my aid. 
 Resolved no more to be betrayed. 
 
130 HOOK OF RCIUKS. 
 
 Ah ! tViend, 'tis but a short-lived trance, 
 Dispelled by one enchanting glance ; 
 She need but look, and 1 confess, 
 Those looks conipleteU curse or bless. 
 
 So stjft, so elegant, so fair. 
 Sure something more than human's there 
 I must submit, for strife is vain, 
 'Tvvas destinv that forged the chain. 
 
 
 At 
 
* Tl 
 
 Akciibi 
 
 .1/.1 i;k a kknsi n !■:, m. i> 
 
 iHavk ::Vkmrii&c, i\\, O. 
 
 [BORM 1721. DlF.D 1770.] 
 
 ''The Shape alone."* 
 
 HE shape alone let others prize, 
 The features of the fair ; 
 1 look for spirit in her eyes, 
 And meaning in her air. 
 
 A damask cheek and ivory arm 
 Shall ne'er mv wishes win ; 
 
 Ciive me an animated form 
 That speaks a mind within ; 
 
 A face where awful honor shines. 
 Where sense and sweetness mo\ e, 
 
 And angel innocence refines 
 The tenderness of love. 
 
 These are the soul of beauty's frame. 
 Without whose vital aid 
 
 is some doubt about the authorship of this. It ib attributed to 
 but is not to be found in his collected poems. 
 
 -2* 
 
% Sf 
 
 132 BO OK OF RUBIES. 
 
 Unfinished all her features seem, 
 And all her roses dead. 
 
 But, ah ! where both their charms unite. 
 
 How perfect is the view. 
 With every image of delight, 
 
 With graces ever new ! 
 
 Of power to charm the deepest woe. 
 
 The wildest rage control ; 
 Diffusing mildness o'er the brow 
 
 And rapture through the soul. 
 
 Their power but faintly to express 
 
 All language must despair ; 
 But go behold Aspasia's face. 
 
 And read it perfect there. 
 
 fii 
 
5h 
 
 PERCY, BISHOP OF DPiOMORK. 133 
 
 ®l)oma5 Pcrcij, Sisliop of ?Dromovc. 
 
 [BoKN 1728. Died 1811.] 
 
 \.. 
 
 :il 
 
 v' " O Nancy, wilt thou go with me. 
 
 NANCY ! wilt thou go with me, 
 
 Nor sigh to leave this flaunting town ? 
 Can silent glens have charms for thee, 
 
 The lowly cot and russet gown ? 
 No longer drest in silken sheen, 
 
 No longer declc'd with jewels rare. 
 Say, canst thou quit each courtly scene 
 
 Where thou wert fairest of the fair ? 
 
 O Nancy ! when thou'rt far away. 
 
 Wilt thou not cast a wish behind ? 
 Say, canst thou face the parching ray. 
 
 Nor shrink before the wintry wind ? 
 O can that soft and gentle mien 
 
 Extremes of hardship learn to bear. 
 Nor sad regret each courtly scene 
 
 Where thou wert fairest of the fair ? 
 12 
 
 K 
 
'n s? 
 
 134 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 O Nancy ! canst thou love so true, 
 
 Through perils keen with me to go, 
 Or when thy swain mishap shall rue, 
 
 To share with him the pang of woe ? 
 Say, should disease or pain befall, 
 
 Wilt thou assume the nurse's care. 
 Nor wistful those gay scenes recall 
 
 Where thou wert fairest of the fair ? 
 
 And when at last thy love shall die. 
 
 Wilt thou receive his parting breath ? 
 Wilt thou repress each struggling sigh. 
 
 And cheer with smiles the bed of death ? 
 And wilt thou o'er his breathless clay 
 
 Strew flowers, and drop the tender tear, 
 Nor then regret those scenes so gay 
 
 Where thou wert fairest of the fair ? * 
 
 * There is a Scotch variation of this poem, differing only in substi 
 tuting " Nannie" for " Nancy," and "gang" for "go." We give th. 
 lines as originally published. 
 
y5r 
 
 WILLIAM JULIUS MICKLE 
 
 35 
 
 iDilHam 3uHu0 iltickU, 
 
 [Born 173+. D.«d 1788.] 
 
 There's nae Luck about the House." 
 
 UT are ye sure the news is true ? 
 
 And are ye sure he's weel ? 
 Is this a time to think o' wark ? 
 Ye jauds, fling bye your wheel ! 
 
 For there's nae luck about the house, 
 
 There's nae luck at a' ; 
 There's nae luck about the house 
 When our gudeman's awa. 
 
 Is this a time to think o' wark, 
 
 When Colin's at the door ? 
 Rax doun my cloak — I'll to the quay, 
 
 And see him come ashore. 
 
 k 
 
 Rise up and mak a clean fireside, 
 Put on the muckle pot ; 
 
 Gie little Kate her cotton goun, 
 And Jock his Sunday's coat. 
 
 3i 
 
136 BOOK OF nrniES. 
 
 And male their shooii as black as slaes. 
 Their stockiiis white as snaw ; 
 
 It's a' to pleasure luir gucleman — 
 He likes to see them hraw. 
 
 There are twa hens into the crib 
 
 Hae tet.1 this month or ni.iir ; 
 Mak haste and thraw their necks about. 
 That Colin wcel may tare. 
 
 M\ TurkcN slippers I'll put on, 
 
 M\ stockins o' pearl blue — 
 It's a' to pleasure our gudeman. 
 
 For he's baith leal and true. 
 
 Sae sweet his vtMce, sae smooth his tongue, 
 
 His breath's like caller air ; 
 His very toot has music in't, 
 
 As he conu^s up the stair. 
 
 And will 1 see his face again. 
 
 And will I hear him speak ? 
 I'm dounricht di/./v with the thocht, 
 
 In troth I'm like to greet. 
 
 There's nae luck about the house. 
 
 There's nae luck at a' ; 
 There's nae luck about the house 
 When our ^udeman's awa. 
 
 M 
 
'K- 
 
 G HA II AM (OF CARTA! on I']}. I 37 
 
 (!$val)am (of ^avtmovc). 
 
 [BoKN 1735. Died 1797.] 
 
 h , 
 
 " I KLI, MIC HOW 'VO WOO THlil'." 
 
 ^ doughty deeds my lady please, 
 Tefl^i RiL!;lu soon rU iiioiiiit my steed : 
 *^i.' And strong his arm and hist his seat 
 '^s That bears frae nic the meed. 
 
 I'll wear thy eolours in my cap, 
 
 Thy picture at my heart ; 
 And he that bends not to thine eye 
 
 Shall rue it to his smart ! 
 Then tell me how to woo thee. Love, 
 
 () tell me how to woo thee ! 
 P'or thy dear sake, nae care I'll take, 
 Though ne'er another trow me. 
 
 If gay attire delight thine eye, 
 
 I'll dight me in array ; 
 I'll tend thy chamber door all night. 
 
 And scpiire thee all the day. 
 
 •Vs si 
 
?5r 
 
 »3« 
 
 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 1^ 
 
 If sweetest sounds can win thine ear, 
 These sounds I'll strive to catch ; 
 
 Thy voice I'll steal to woo thysel, 
 That voice that none can match. 
 
 But if fond love thy heart can gain, 
 
 I never broke a vow ; 
 Nae maiden lavs her skaith to me, 
 
 I never loved but you. 
 For vou alone I ride the ring. 
 
 For you I wear the blue ; 
 For vou alone I strive to sing, 
 
 O tell me how to woo ! 
 Then tell iiic how to woo thee, Lo\ e ; 
 
 C) tell me how to woo thee ! 
 For tin dear sake, nae care I'll take, 
 
 'Fhoui2;h ne'er another trow me. 
 
 
 w 
 
 ^ 
 
E- 
 
 
 
 — ^ 
 
 
 
 ANNE HUNTER. 
 
 139 
 
 
 
 QVunc i^untcr. 
 
 
 
 
 [BoKN 1742. Di.„ ,8zi.] 
 
 
 
 11 
 
 My Mother bids mk bind my Hair." 
 
 
 
 f 
 
 1 Y mother bids me bind my hair 
 
 
 
 With bands of rosy hue, 
 
 
 
 Tic up my sleeves with ribands rare, 
 
 
 
 .^ 
 
 And lace my bodice blue : 
 For why, she cries, sit still and weep. 
 
 While others dance and play? 
 Alas ! I scarce can go or creep 
 
 While Lubin is away. 
 
 'Tis sad to think the days are gone 
 
 When those we love are near : 
 1 sit upon this mossy stone. 
 
 And sigh when none can hear. 
 And while I spin my flaxen thread. 
 
 And sing my simple lay. 
 The village seems asleep, or dead. 
 
 While Lubin is away. 
 
 
 <L. 
 
 
 
 — 2 
 
% s? 
 
 140 BOOK OF RUBIES 
 
 ail)arlc5 JDibbin. 
 
 [Born 1745. Disd 1814.] 
 
 A. Song. 
 
 ^^^^ f 'tis love to wish you near, 
 x^|l^''To tremble when the wind I hear, 
 ^^ :n Because at sea you floating rove ; 
 ■p^'i If of vou to dream at night, 
 
 ' To languish when vou're out of sight. 
 
 If when vou're gone, to count each hour, 
 To ask of every tender power 
 
 That vou mav kind and faithful prove ; 
 If, void of falsehood and deceit, 
 I feel a pleasure now we meet, — 
 
 If this be loving, then I love. 
 
 To wish vour fortune to partake, 
 Determined ne\er to forsake. 
 
 Though low in poverty we strove ; 
 If, so that me your wife you'd call, 
 I offer you my little all, — 
 
 If this be loving, then I lo\ e. 
 
JOHN L APR A IK. 
 
 141 
 
 3cil)n Capraik. 
 
 [Born i746(?). Died 1807.] 
 
 Matrimonial Happiness.* 
 
 HEN I upon thy bosom lean, 
 
 And fondly clasp thee a' my ain, 
 I glory in the sacred ties 
 
 That made us ane wha ance were twain. 
 A mutual flame inspires us baith, 
 
 The tender look, the meltin' kiss ; 
 Even years shall ne'er destroy our love. 
 
 But only gie us change o' bliss. 
 
 Hae I a wish ? it's a' for thee ! 
 
 I ken thy wish is me to please ; 
 Our moments pass sae smooth away. 
 
 That numbers on us look and gaze ; 
 Weel pleased they see our happy days. 
 
 Nor envy's sel' finds aught to blame ; 
 
 * An Anglicised version of the above lines was published by George 
 Huddesford ; and this, from a copy having been found among the papers 
 of" Lindley Murray, after his death, was generally attributed to the latter. 
 
 iji 
 
K 
 
 "S 
 
 142 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 And aye when weai y cares arise, 
 Thy bosom still shall be my hame. 
 
 I'll lay me there aiui talc' my rest ; 
 
 And if that aught disturb my dear, 
 rU bid her laugh her cares away. 
 
 And beg her not to drop a tear. 
 Hae I a joy ? it's a' her ain ! 
 
 United still her heart and mine ; 
 They're like the woodbine round the tree. 
 
 That's twined till death shall them disjoin. 
 
 .». 
 
 iii 
 
VST 
 
 HECTOR AVNE ILL. 
 
 '43 
 
 C)cctor iirjfcill. 
 
 [Born 1746. Died j8i8.] 
 
 ^^-^p-_„ My Boy Tammy. 
 
 HAR hae yc been a' day, 
 My boy Tammy ? 
 '^(h I've been by burn and flow'ry brae, 
 Meadow green and mountain grey, 
 Courting o' this young thing. 
 Just come frac her mammy. 
 
 And whar gat yc that young thing, 
 
 My boy Tammy ? 
 I got her doun in yonder howc, 
 Smiling on a bonny knowc, 
 Herding ae wee lamb and ewe 
 
 For her poor mammy. 
 
 What said ye to the bonnie bairn. 
 
 My boy Tammy ? 
 I praised her e'en sae lovely blue. 
 Her dimpled cheek and cherry mou' 
 I preed it aft, as ye may trow, — 
 
 She said she'd tell her mammy. 
 
 ^ 
 
7i? 
 
 144 HOOK OF /iTJ{/A\S\ 
 
 1 licUl her to niv bcatinii; heart 
 Mv young, my smiHiig laiv,inic ; 
 
 1 h;io :i hoiisi-, it eost mo tloar, 
 
 I'xc wahh o' pU'iiishin aiul gear; 
 
 "\ e'sc »;i'l It a', wi'i't ton tinios mair, 
 Ciiii \o will loa\o \oiii inaminv. 
 
 Tho siuilo gaoil atl" hor boniiv faoc — 
 I inauna loa\ tin luamiiiv ; 
 
 She's gieii mo moat, she's gion mo olaiso. 
 
 She's been m\ eonit'oi t a' m\ ila\ s ! 
 
 M\- father's death bunioht man\ waos ; 
 I oanna lca\o m\ mamm\ . 
 
 \\'o'll tak' hor hamo and mak' hoi taim, 
 
 Mv aiii kind-hoaitod lammio ; 
 \\ o'll L;io hor moat, we'll gio hor elaise, 
 We'll ho hoi oomtoit a' her da\ s. 
 I'ho woo thing gies her hand and sa\ s, 
 riioio, gang and ask mv niammv. 
 
 Has she boon to tho kirk wi" thee, 
 
 M\ bo\ Tamnu ? 
 She has boon to tho kiik wi' me, 
 And the tear was in her 00 ; 
 For, (.di, she's but a \oiing thing, 
 
 I list eome tVae hor mammv. 
 
 3i 
 
HIISANSA lil.A M I h' N. I45 
 
 SueiQuna jBlamirc. 
 
 [BoKN 1747. iiivu I7V4J 
 T II \: Wa !•. !• (;' II !• A K 'I.* 
 
 IN liviii' worth (oiild win my licail, 
 
 You would nf)t speak in vain ; 
 Hut in the darksome grave it's laid, 
 urf Never to rise again. 
 
 [Q My waefu' heart lies low with his, 
 ) Whose heart was f)iily mine ; 
 
 And, oh, what a heart was that to lose ! 
 Hut I maun not repine. 
 
 Yet, oh, gin Heaven in mercy soon 
 
 Would grant the boon \ crave, 
 And take this life, now nactliin^' woith, 
 
 Sin' Jamie's in his grave ! 
 And see, his gentle spirit comes. 
 
 To shew me f)n my way ; 
 Surprised, nae dcniht, I still am here, 
 
 Sair wondering at my stay. 
 
 * Erroneously attributed, in tiic " Garland of Scotia," to Jeanic P'cr- 
 
 uson. 
 
K 
 
 14(> 
 
 uooK or h'vniKs 
 
 I come, 1 icMUo, inv Jamie dear. 
 
 Ami, oh, \vi' what giidcwill 
 1 toUow whercsof'i-f \ o load ! 
 
 Yc canna load to ill :— 
 She said, and soon a doadl\ [\ilo 
 
 Hoi t.ulod ohook possoss'd ; 
 llor waofu' hoait toigot to boat. 
 
 Hoi sorrows sunk to lost. 
 
 -25i 
 
Ji K V. J II \ I^ (■' l -V. 
 
 ■47 
 
 lUu. 3ol)u Cngan. 
 
 [Born 1748. Died 1788.J 
 
 TiiK Hkaks ok \' arrow. 
 
 [HY braes were honiiie, Yarrow stream, 
 "^ When first on tlieiii 1 met m\ lo\ ci ; 
 '(y Thy hraes how dreary, "^'anow stream, 
 ^ When now thy waves his body cover! 
 
 h'orever now, O Yarrow stream ! 
 
 I'hou art to me a stream of sorrow ; 
 ]'\)V never on thy hanks shall I 
 
 Uehokl n\\' love, the Flower of Yarrow ! 
 
 He promised me a milk-white steed, 
 'I"o hear me to his father's bowers -, 
 
 Ilr promiseil mc a little page, 
 
 To sijiiire me to his father's towers; 
 
 lir piomised me a wedding-ring — 
 
 'I 'he wedding-day was fixed to-morrow : 
 
 Now he is wedded to his grave, 
 Alas, his watery grave in Yarrow! 
 
Kc 
 
 148 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 Sweet were his words when last we met ; 
 
 My passion I as freely told him : 
 Clasped in his arms, I little thought 
 
 That I should never more behold him. 
 Scarce was he gone, I saw his ghost ; 
 
 It vanished with a shriek of sorrow : 
 Thrice did the water-wraith ascend, 
 
 And gave a doleful groan through Yarrow. 
 
 His mother from the window looked. 
 
 With all the longing of a mother \ 
 His little sister weeping walked 
 
 The greenwood path to meet her brother ; 
 They sought liim cast, they sought him west. 
 
 They sought him all the forest thorough -, 
 They only saw the cloud of night. 
 
 They only heard the roar of Yarrow. 
 
 No longer from thy window look ; 
 
 'I'hou hast no son, thou tender mother ! 
 No longer walk, thou lovely maid ; 
 
 Alas, thou hast no more a brother ! 
 No longer seek him cast or west. 
 
 No longer search the forest thorough ; 
 For wandering in the night so dark. 
 
 He fell a lifeless corpse in Yarrow. 
 
 ^ 
 
REV. JOHN- LOGAN. 
 
 IJ? 
 
 149 
 
 The tear shall never leave my check, 
 
 No other youth shall be my marrow ; 
 I'll seek thy body in the stream, 
 
 And then with thee I'll sleep in Yarrow. 
 The tear did never leave her cheek, 
 
 No other youth became her marrow ; 
 She found his body in the stream, 
 
 And now with him she sleeps in Yarrow. 
 
 is"" 
 
K 
 
 B OOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 K. B. Sl)criban 
 
 [Born 1751. Died 1816.] 
 
 Song. 
 
 AD I a heart for falsehood framed, 
 
 I ne'er could injure you ; 
 For though your tongue no promise claimed, 
 
 Your charms would make me true : 
 To you no soul shall bear deceit, 
 
 No stranger offer wrong. 
 But friends in all the aged you'll meet, 
 
 And lovers in the young. 
 
 But when they learn that you have blest 
 
 Another with your heart. 
 They'll bid aspiring passion rest, 
 
 And act a brother's part ; 
 Then, lady, dread not here deceit. 
 
 Nor fear to suffer wrong. 
 For friends in all the aged you'll meet. 
 
 And lovers in the young. 
 
 J 
 
THOMAS CHATTERTON. I5I 
 
 3:i)oma5 €l)atterton. 
 
 [Born 1751. Died 1770.] 
 
 \ 
 
 r 
 
 *i Y 1<S* Minstrel's Song. 
 
 
 SING unto my roundelay, 
 O ! drop the briny tear with me ; 
 ance no more at holiday, 
 Like a running river be ; 
 
 My love is dead, 
 
 Gone to his death-bed, 
 All under the willow-tree. 
 
 Black his hair as the winter night, 
 
 White his skin as the driven snow, 
 Ruddy his face as the morning light. 
 Cold he lies in the grave below ; 
 My love is dead, 
 Gone to his death-bed, 
 All under the willow-tree. 
 
 Sweet his tongue as the throstle's note, 
 Quick in dance as thought could be. 
 
Dctt his tabour, cudgel stout ; 
 
 O ! he lies by the \villi)\v-tiee ; 
 Alv love is dead, 
 Cioiie to his ileath-bed, 
 
 All imder the willow-tree. 
 
 Ilaik ! the ra\ cii flaps his wing 
 
 In the briered dell below ; 
 Hark ' the death-owl loud doth sing 
 To the night-niares as the\ go ; 
 M V Kne IS dead, 
 Cione io his death-bed. 
 All under the willow-tiee. 
 
 See, the white moon shines on higli 
 Whiter is nn true lo\ e's shroud ; 
 Whiter than the moining sk\ , 
 W'hitet than the e\ening eUnul ; 
 M\ love is dead, 
 Cione to his death-bed. 
 All under the willow-tiee. 
 
 Here, upon m\ true love's gra\ e. 
 Shall the barren flowers be laid. 
 
 Not on holv saint to sa\ e 
 All the eelness ot" a maid ; 
 
 SL 
 
5" 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 THOMAS en ATT Ell TON. 
 
 '53 
 
 
 My love is dead, 
 
 
 
 Gone to his death-bed, 
 
 
 
 All under the willow-tree. 
 
 
 
 With my hands I'll dent the briers, 
 
 
 
 Round his holy corse to gre -, 
 
 
 
 Elves and fairies, light your fires, 
 
 
 
 Here my body still shall be ; 
 
 
 
 My love is dead. 
 
 
 
 Gone to his death-bed, 
 
 
 
 All under the willow-tree. 
 
 
 
 Come with acorn cup and thorn. 
 
 
 
 Drain my heart its blood away ; 
 
 
 
 Life and all its goods I scorn. 
 
 
 
 Dance by night or feast by day j 
 
 
 
 My love is dead. 
 
 
 
 Gone to his death-bed, 
 
 
 
 All under the willow-tree. 
 
 
 k — 
 
 >*.. 
 
 3 
 
^ 
 
 llobcvt iSurns. 
 
 [BOKN 1759. t)'H' 1796] 
 
 John ANDKRst)N, mv jo.* 
 
 OHN Aiulcison, n\\ jo, Jolui, 
 
 ^Vhell we were first acquent, 
 Your locks were like the raven, 
 
 Your lH)niiie brow was brent ; 
 But now your brow is bald, John, 
 
 Your locks are like the snaw -, 
 Hut blessings on \ou\' trost\ pcnv, 
 
 John An(.lcrst)n, m\ jo. 
 
 John Anilcrs^Mi, ni\ jo, John, 
 
 rho\- sav 'tis tort\- \car 
 S\ nc I ca\l \o\\ m\ jo, J(.)hn, 
 
 And you ca\l nic \o\w dear ; 
 But there thoN 're surel\- wrang, John ; 
 
 * Tlie SLHonJ stanza of the above is by some unknown writer. Many 
 attempts at additional words have been iiiaJo ; but tlif above is the only 
 one in which the hmgiiage and sentiment are at all equal to tho.^e in the 
 verses of' Burns. 
 
 it 
 
t? 
 
 n () II K U T li U R N H. 
 
 'Tis but a hinney-mcK)!! at niaist, 
 John Anderson, my jo. 
 
 John Anderson, my jo, John, 
 
 VVc clamb the hill thcgithcr ; 
 And mony a canty day, John, 
 
 We've had wi' ane anither •, 
 Now we maun totter down, John 
 
 iiut hand in hand we'll go. 
 And sleep thegithcr at the foot, 
 
 John Anderson, my jo. 
 
 155 
 
 KarI' tukI': wkki,. 
 
 fE fond kiss, and then we sever ; 
 Ac farewcel, alas, for ever ! 
 "Ui^' Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee. 
 ^Y> Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee. 
 Who shall say that fortune grieves him 
 While the star of hope she leaves him ? 
 Me nae cheerfu' twinkle lights me ; 
 Dark despair around benights me. 
 
 I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy, 
 Naething could resist my Nancy ; 
 But to see her was to love her, 
 I>()ve but her, and love for ever. 
 
^ 
 
 156 n K OF IxTHlKS. 
 
 Had we nc\ CM- lo\ fJ sac kiiullv. 
 Had we nc\ IT loved sac bliiullv. 
 Never met — or iu'\ cr parted, 
 \\'e had ne'er heen broken-hearted. 
 
 Fare thee weel, tliou first and fairest ; 
 Fare thee weel, thou best and dearest ; 
 Thine be ilka jov and treasure. 
 Peace, enjoN luent, lo\ e, and pleasure. 
 Ac fond kiss, and then we sever ; 
 Ac tarcweel, alas, tor e\ er ! 
 Deep in heart-wrung tears 1 pledge thee. 
 Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee. 
 
 ( 
 
 ^^ ^/ H 1 (.; H 1. A NO M A R Y. 
 
 \i banks and braes, and streams around 
 
 The castle o' Montgomcrv, 
 Cirecn be \our woods and fair \ Dur flower: 
 
 \'our waters ne\ er drunilie. 
 There Sinuner first unfauUl her robes, 
 
 And there the\ langest tarr\ ; 
 For there I took the last tarcweel 
 
 O' niv sweet Highland Marv. 
 
«55* 
 
 ROniCUT BUItNt^. 15; 
 
 How sweetly bloomed the gay green birk, 
 
 How rich the hawthorn's blossom. 
 As underneath their fragrant shade 
 
 I clasped her to my bosom ! 
 The golden hours on angel wings 
 
 Flew o'er me and my dearie ; 
 For dear to me as light and life 
 
 Was my sweet Highland Mary. 
 
 Wi' mony a vow and locked embrace, 
 
 Our parting was fu' tender •, 
 And pledging aft to meet again, 
 
 We tore oursels asunder ; 
 But, oh, fell death's untimely frost, 
 
 'Fhat nipt my flower sae early ; 
 Now green's the sod and cauld's the clay 
 
 'Fhat wraps my Highland Mary ! 
 
 Oh, pale, pale now those rosy lips 
 
 I aft hae kissed sae fondly ; 
 And closed for aye the sparkling glance 
 
 'Fhat dwelt on me sae kindly ; 
 And mould'ring now in silent dust 
 
 That heart that lo'ed me dearly ; 
 But still within my bosom's core 
 
 Shall live my Highland Mary. 
 14 
 
•?? 
 
 5H 
 
 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 -^ 
 
 "Of a' the a irts." 
 
 ^.•^ 
 
 F a' the airts the wind can blaw 
 
 I dearly like the west, 
 For there the bonnie lassie lives, 
 
 The lassie I lo'e best : 
 There wild woods grow, and rivers row. 
 
 And mony a hill between ; 
 But day and night my fancy's flight 
 
 Is ever wi' my Jean. 
 
 I see her in the dewy flowers, 
 
 I see her sweet and fair ; 
 I hear her in the tunefu' birds, 
 
 I hear her charm the air : 
 There's not a bonnie flower that springs 
 
 By fountain, shaw, or green. 
 There's not a bonnie bird that sings, 
 
 But minds me o' mv Jean. 
 
ROBEliT BURNS. 159 
 
 The Banks o' Doon. 
 
 1 
 
 I? banks and braes o' bonnie Doon, 
 How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair ? 
 Ctn How can ye chaunt, ye little birds, 
 (t)) And I sae weary fou o' care ! 
 (i Yc'll break my heart, ye little birds, 
 'f. That wanton through the flowery thorn 
 
 Ye mind me o' departed joys. 
 Departed never to return. 
 
 Aft hae I roved by bonnie Doon, 
 
 To see the rose and woodbine twine; 
 Where ilka bird sang o' its luve. 
 
 And fondly sae did I o' mine. 
 Wi' heartsome glee I pu'd a rose. 
 
 The sweetest on its thorny tree ; 
 But my fause love has stown the rose. 
 
 And left the thorn behind wi' me. 
 
 -^^^^ 
 
 L 
 
 M', 
 
K(r 
 
 l6o BOOK OF liCBIES. 
 
 [Born 1762. DiK.n 1788.J 
 
 To Delia. 
 
 f C/r ^/ 1 ^ "°^ ^ cheek that boasts the ruby's glow, 
 \^ The neck of ivory or the breast of snow ; 
 "c^^^ 'Tis not a dimple known so oft to charm, 
 • - ^ The hand's soft polish, or the tapering arm ; 
 
 'Tis not the braided lock of golden hue, 
 Nor reddening lip that swells with vernal dew ; 
 'Tis not a smile that blooms with young desire ; 
 'Tis not an eve that sheds celestial fire ; 
 No, Delia ! these are not the spells that move 
 My heart to fold thee in eternal love : 
 But 'tis that Soul, which from so fair a frame 
 Looks truth, and tells us — 'twas from Heaven It 
 
 ■>:^^^^t%" 
 
SAMUEL ROGERS 
 
 i6i 
 
 Samuel tlcigcro. 
 
 [Born 1762. Died 1855. J 
 
 x^ 
 
 L'-^A^r^^-^^THE Sleeping Beauty. 
 
 LEEPon, and dream of Heaven awhile — 
 Though shut so close thy laughing eyes, 
 Thy rosy lips still wear a smile, 
 
 And move, and breathe delicious sighs. 
 
 Ah, now soft blushes tinge her cheeks 
 And mantle o'er her neck of snow ; 
 
 Ah, now she murmurs, now she speaks. 
 What most I wish — and fear to know ! 
 
 She starts, she trembles, and she weeps ! 
 
 Her fair hands folded on her breast : 
 — And now, how like a saint she sleeps ! 
 
 A seraph in the realms of rest ! 
 
 ik. 
 
 Sleep on secure ! Above control. 
 
 Thy thoughts belong to Heaven and thee 
 
 And may the secret of thy soul 
 Remain within its sanctuary ! 
 14* 
 
l62 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 iDilliam tUoriswovtl) 
 
 [Born 1770. DitD 1850.] 
 
 A^, _ APlCTURE. 
 
 HE was a phantom of delight 
 When first she gleamed upon my sight ; 
 A lovely apparition, sent 
 To be a moment's ornament ; 
 Her eyes as stars of twilight fair ; 
 Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair ; 
 But all things else about her, drawn 
 From May-time and the cheerful dawn ; 
 A dancing shape, an image gay, 
 To haunt, to startle, and waylay. 
 
 I saw her upon nearer view, 
 
 A spirit, yet a woman too ! 
 
 Her household motions light and free, 
 
 And steps of virgin-liberty ; 
 
 A countenance in which did meet 
 
 Sweet records, promises as sweet ; 
 
 A creature not too bright or good 
 
 For human nature's daily food, 
 
 ic2 25i 
 
■?? 
 
 WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. 
 
 163 
 
 For transient sorrows, simple wiles, 
 
 Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles. 
 
 And now I see with eye serene 
 
 The very pulse of the machine ; 
 
 A being breathing thoughtful breath, 
 
 A traveller between life and death : 
 
 The reason firm, the temperate will. 
 
 Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill ; 
 
 A perfect woman, nobly planned. 
 
 To warn, to comfort, and command. 
 
 And yet a Spirit still, and bright 
 
 With something of an angel-light. 
 
 Th e Lost Love. 
 
 ^^HL ^^^^ dwelt among the untrodden ways 
 f^"*l Beside the springs of Dove ; 
 
 A maid whom there were none to praise, 
 And very few to love. 
 
 A violet by a mossy stone 
 
 Half hidden from the eye ! 
 — Fair as a star, when only one 
 
 Is shining in the sky. 
 
 R 
 
 :m 
 
K 
 
 164 BOOK OF JRUBIES. 
 
 She lived unknown, and few could know 
 When Lucv ceased to be ; 
 
 But she is in her grave, and O ! 
 The difference to me. 
 
 1 
 
 The Dead Love. 
 
 -^Jsflf SLUMBER did my spirit seal ; 
 I had no human fears : 
 She seemed a thtni; that could not feel 
 The touch of eariv vears. 
 
 No motion has she now, nor force ; 
 
 She neither hears nor sees ; 
 Rolled round in earth's diurnal course 
 
 With rocks, and stones, and trees. 
 
S'Jn WALTER SCOTT. 
 
 165 
 
 Sir lUaltcv Scott, 
 
 [Born 1771. Dikd 1832.] 
 
 ^^ «/' '■'■ A Wkary Lot is Thine." 
 
 WKARY lot is thine, fair maid, 
 
 A weary lot is thine ; 
 1 o pull the thorn thy brow to braid, 
 
 And press the rue for wine. 
 A lightsome eye, a soldier's mien, 
 
 A feather of the blue, 
 A doublet of the Lincoln green, — 
 No more of me you knew, my love. 
 
 No more of me you knew. 
 
 This morn is merry June, I trow. 
 
 The rose is budding fain ; 
 But it shall bloom in winter snow 
 
 Ere we two meet again. 
 He turned his charger as he spoke 
 
 Upon the river-shore ; 
 He gave his bridle reins a shake. 
 Said, Adieu for evermore, my love, 
 
 And adieu for evermore ! 
 
 K 
 
K 
 
 1 66 
 
 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 72? 
 
 Song. 
 
 HERK shall the lover rest 
 
 Whom the fates sever 
 From his true maiden's breast, 
 
 Parted for ever ? 
 Where, through groves deep and high, 
 
 Sounds the far billow. 
 Where early violets die 
 
 Under the willow. 
 Eleu loro 
 
 Soft shall be his pillow. 
 
 There, through the summer day, 
 
 Cool streams are laving : 
 There, while the tempests sway, 
 
 Scarce are boughs waving ; 
 There thy rest shalt thou take, 
 
 Parted for ever. 
 Never again to wake. 
 
 Never, O never ! 
 Eleu loro 
 
 Never, O never I 
 
 Where shall the traitor rest. 
 He, the deceiver. 
 
 K 
 
 i% 
 
Slli WALTER SCOTT. 1 67 
 
 Who could win maiden's breast, 
 
 Ruin, and leave her ? 
 In the lost battle. 
 
 Home down by the flying, 
 Where mingles war's rattle 
 
 With groans of the dying ; 
 Eleu loro 
 
 There shall he be lying. 
 
 Her wing shall the eagle flap 
 
 O'er the false-hearted ; 
 His warm blood the wolf shall lap 
 
 Ere life be parted : 
 Shame and dishonor sit 
 
 By his grave ever ; 
 Blessing shall hallow it 
 
 Never, O never ! 
 Eleu loro 
 
 Never, O never ! 
 
 j^l 2^ 
 
i68 
 
 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 7S? 
 
 €l)ciinas Dibbin. 
 
 [Born 1771. Dim 1841.] 
 
 Thi- Mad Ciiri.'s Song. 
 
 .. /^.M TAKK >i^c to your arms, love, 
 
 For kctMi tlic vviiul cloth blow ! 
 • • , * take mc to your arms, lo\ c, 
 For bitter is my woe. 
 She hears me iu)(, she eares not, 
 
 Nor will she list to me ; 
 And here I lie in misery, 
 Heneath the willow-tree. 
 
 My love has wealth aiul beauty, — 
 
 'I'he rieh atteiul her door ; 
 My love has wealth and beauty, — 
 
 And I, alas ! am pot)r ; 
 The ribbon fair, that bound her hair, 
 
 Is all that's left to me. 
 While here I lie, in misery, 
 
 Beneath the willow-tree. 
 
THOMAS D inn IN. 
 
 "5? 
 
 169 
 
 I once had gold and silver, — 
 
 I thought them without end ; 
 I once had gold and silver, — 
 
 I thought I had a friend. 
 My wealth is lost, my friend is false, 
 
 My love is stol'n from me ; 
 And here I lie in misery, 
 
 Beneath the willow-tree. 
 
 te. 
 
 ^. 
 
BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 Samuel f anlov ^olcvibgc. 
 
 [Born 1772. Died 1834.] 
 
 uj^^V Love. 
 
 1>J' thoughts, all passions, all delights. 
 Whatever stirs this mortal frame, 
 Are all but ministers of Love, 
 And feed his sacred flame. 
 
 Oft in my waking dreams do I 
 Live o'er again that happy hour, 
 
 When midway on the mount I lay 
 Beside the ruined tower. 
 
 The moonshine stealing o'er the scene 
 Had blended with the lights of eve ; 
 
 And she was there, my hope, my joy. 
 My own dear Genevieve ! 
 
 She leaned against the armed man. 
 The statue of the armed knight ; 
 
 She stood and listened to my lay. 
 Amid the lino;erinir liiiht. 
 
 ijs:. 
 
t? 
 
 SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE. 
 
 Few sorrows hath she of her own, 
 My hope, my joy, my Genevieve! 
 
 She loves me best whene'er I sing 
 llie songs that make her grieve. 
 
 I played a soft and doleful air, 
 
 I sang an old and moving story — 
 
 An old rude song, that suited well 
 That ruin wild and hoary. 
 
 She listened with a flitting blush, 
 
 With downcast eyes and modest grace ; 
 
 For well she knew, I could not choose 
 But gaze upon her face. 
 
 I told her of the knight that wore 
 Upon his shield a burning brand ; 
 
 And that for ten long years he wooed 
 The Lady of the Land. 
 
 I told her how he pined ; and ah ! 
 
 The deep, the low, the pleading tone 
 With which I sang another's love 
 
 Interpreted my own. 
 
 She listened with a flitting blush. 
 
 With downcast eyes and modest grace ; 
 
 And she forgave me that I gazed 
 Too fondly on her face. 
 
172 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 Hut when I toKl the cruel scorn 
 
 That crazed that bold and lovely Knight, 
 
 And that he crossed the mountain-woods 
 Nor rested day nor night ; 
 
 That sometimes from the savage den, 
 
 And sometimes from the darksome shade, 
 
 And sometimes starting up at once 
 In green and sunny glade. 
 
 There came and looked him in the face 
 An angel beautiful and bright ; 
 
 And that he knew it was a Fiend, 
 This miserable Knight ! 
 
 And that, unknowing what he did. 
 He leaped amid a murderous band, 
 
 And saved from outrage worse than death 
 The Lady of the Land ; 
 
 And how she wept, and clasped his knees. 
 And how she tended him in vain ; 
 
 And ever strove to expiate 
 
 The scoln that crazed his brain ; 
 
 And that she nursed him in a cave. 
 And how his madness went awav. 
 
 When on the yellow forest leaves 
 A dying man he lay ; 
 
 M- 
 
 J 
 
,SAMIJNL T.WLOU (U) L K li 1 D (i K. I/^ 
 
 — llis clviii[i; woiiis — Inil wlu'ii I rcarluHl 
 That tcMuli'ic-st strain olall tin- ditty, 
 
 My (altiTiiit; yoiiH' and pausing liarp 
 J)isturlu-d luT soul with jiily ! 
 
 All impulses ofsoul and stiisr 
 
 Had tlirillcd my nuiK-Ic-ss ( icncvicvc ; 
 
 Tin- music and llu' dolcCul (ale, 
 Till' ii(. Ii and lialin\' fvi' ; 
 
 And liopc-s, and iVais that kindle- hopi-, 
 
 An undistinjniishahlc thionja, ; 
 And gcntli- wishes loiii; suhdued, 
 
 Suhdueil aiul eherished lonj;. 
 
 She wept witli pity and delij;ht, 
 
 She blushed with loye and viij^in shame ; 
 
 And like the murmm" ol a dream, 
 I iieard her hieathe my name-. 
 
 Iler hosom heaved — she stept asitle, 
 As conscious of my look, she stept — 
 
 Then suddenly, with timorous eye 
 Sill- lied to me antl wc-pt. 
 
 She hair cMU losc-d me with her arms, 
 
 Slu- |)iessed me with a met'k emhrace ; 
 And hendin- hack her head, looked up. 
 
 And <i;a/,ed upon my hice. 
 
 ,5. 
 
%" 
 
 1 74 no o K F n u n i k s. 
 
 ' Iwas p.iitU lo\ c, aiul p.utlv tear. 
 Ami paitlv 'twas a haslitiil art 
 
 Tlial 1 luiolit ralluM tix-1, than sec 
 The swiUiiig i>f her heart. 
 
 I cahiieil lier fears and she was cahii, 
 Aiul toKl her love with virgin pride ; 
 
 Anil so 1 won \\\\; Cieiu-\ ieve, 
 Mv hii'ilu and beaut ei>iis Hiide. 
 
 7i? 
 
 M 
 
 A I 1) O K M Y l.OV K. 
 
 ¥A1D t^f m\ lo\ e, sweet Cienevievc ! 
 In luaiitN 's light you glide along ; 
 'WnM e\e is like the star i>t" eve, 
 V ^'^ And swi-et \our \ oiee as Seraph's song 
 s \ et not \ our hea\ enl\ lH-aut\ i;i\es 
 
 This heart with jxission sott to glow: 
 Within \our soul a \ oiee there lives! 
 
 It bids \ nu lu'ar the tale iW woe. 
 When, sinking low, the sutliier wan 
 
 Heholds no hand outstretehed to sa\e. 
 Fair, as the bosom ot" the swan 
 
 That rises graeet'ul o'er the wave, 
 I've seen \ oiu" breast witii pit\ heave. 
 And theiet'ore lo\ e I vou, sweet Cienevieve ! 
 
 JSi 
 
VST 
 
 Tll (jM A ,V h lUiSJ () IJ Y. 
 
 (tljomas Dcnnobn 
 
 (IJo«K 1774. \h>u i8o» j 
 
 H 
 
 I J, OVi." 
 
 ^^/I^2 WKET is tfuj wof>flhinc's fragrant twine ; 
 Swf;ct thfj ripf; Ijiirthcn of the vine; 
 riie pea-hloom sweet, that scents the air; 
 The rose-bud, sweet beyond compare ; 
 The perfunie sweet (>(' yonder grove ; 
 Sweeter the Hp of Her I love ! 
 
 Soft the rich meadow's velvet green, 
 Where cowslip tufts are early seen ; 
 Soft the young cygnet's snowy breast. 
 Or down that lines the linnet's nest ; 
 Soft the smooth plumage of the dove ; 
 Softer the breast of Her I love ! 
 
 liriglit is the star that opes the day ; 
 Bright the mid-noon's refulgent ray ; 
 Bright on yon hill the sunny beam ; 
 Bright the blue mirror of the stream ; 
 Bright the gay twinkling fires above ; 
 Brighter the eyes of Her I love ! 
 
1/6 
 
 no OK OF nUBIES. 
 
 ^ 
 
 To match one grace, with idle pain 
 
 Through Nature's stores I search in vain ; 
 
 All that is bright, and soft, and sweet. 
 
 Does in her form, concentred, meet ; 
 
 Then, Muse ! how weak my power must prove 
 
 To paint the charms ot' Her I love ! 
 
ROIiK R T TA NNA Ilfl.L. 177 
 
 Hobcvt (Jaunal)ill. 
 
 [BoKN 1774.. Din> 1810.I 
 
 Jkssik, thk Flowkr of Dumblani:. 
 
 HE sun has gone down o'er the lofty licn- 
 loniond, 
 ^^'i^ y^ And left the red clouds to preside o'er 
 the scene, 
 
 «•' While lonely I stray in the calm summer 
 gloaming, 
 To muse on sweet Jessie, the Flower o' Dumhlane. 
 How sweet is the brier with its soft faulding blossom, 
 
 And sweet is the biric wi' its mantle of green ; 
 Yet sweeter and fiiircr, and dear to this bosom, 
 Is lovely young Jessie, the Flower o' Dumblanc. 
 
 She's modest as ony, and blythc as she's bonny, 
 For guileless simplicity marks her its ain ; 
 
 And far be the villain, divested of feeling. 
 
 Who'd blight in its bloom the sweet Flower o' 
 Dumblane. 
 
.;8 
 
 7.'()()A' ()/•' inittHS. 
 
 Siiii; on, thou swccl in;»\ is, thy hymn to the c'ciiing, 
 rhi)u'il dear to the ixlu>cs oi' CaUlcrwooil i>,lcn ; 
 
 S.u- iK-.u (o this hosom, s.u- .nllcss .iiul winning, 
 
 Is ili.ii mill!; \ ouiij; Ji'ssii", ihf 1' lowt'i o' I )iimM. uu". 
 
 I low lost were ni\ il.i\s till 1 nul wi' mv Ji'ssic ; 
 riu- sptMts ol the (.itN sccnunl ioolish .iiul \.iin ; 
 1 lu-'n s.iw .1 n\ mpli 1 louKl i .i' n\\ iUmi l.issir. 
 
 Till ih.nnu-il with \oiing Jissii-, the I'lowcr o' 
 1 )iiiuhl.iiu". 
 Thouj'Ji miiu- wi'ii- tlu- st.it ion o( lottiesl [;ranilcur, 
 
 Antiilst its pioliisioii IM languish in pain. 
 Ami rcikon as iu>lhing the height o' its spKiulor, 
 ir wanting!; \oiing lessic, the l'"lower o' Duinhlane. 
 
 ii. 
 
'^ir 
 
 7!? 
 
 JOHN !.!■: y hF,\\ m. d. 
 
 \-]i) 
 
 3 1)11 Ccijitcn, ill ?II. 
 
 V 
 
 1U..NN 1775, ''"■" »«"•! 
 
 I'll r; I'', V 1: N I N (; S r a u. 
 
 [IW ()\\/ swcci lliy iiHxIcsl li^'.lil In view, 
 
 llH. I'"air sl:ir, (o love ami lovers dear ; 
 
 )* While trcnil)lin[z; 011 the fallin[j; dc-w 
 
 [>ikc hcaiity shining through the tear 
 
 Or haiii',ing o'er ihal mirror- slrcani, 
 To niaik (Ml h iinaj-.c I rcinMin)-, lhcr<-, 
 
 'I'hoii sccm'sl lo smile will) sollei )',le.im, 
 To see thy lovely lai e so lair. 
 
 'I'hoiij-h, l)la/,iiig o'er the arch of nij-hi, 
 The moon thy timid heams oiilshine 
 
 As lai as thine ea( h slaiiy lifjit,— 
 ller rays can never vie with thine. 
 
 'I'hine ai<- tlu! soft, enchantin;- hoins 
 When twilight lingers on the plain, 
 
 And whis|)ers lo the dosing^ (loweis, 
 That soon the sun will rise again. 
 
 \L 
 
^/^ 
 
 1 80 
 
 /.•()() a: ()/•' miuKs. 
 
 ^ 
 
 Thine is the htcc/,c th;it, nuiniuiring hiaiul 
 As nuisic, wafts the lover's sigh ; 
 
 Aiul bids tlu- \ ifUhug heart expand 
 In lo\ e's ileheious eestasv. 
 
 Kail star, thi>u<;h 1 be doonuxl to prove 
 That laptuie's tears are n\i\eil with pain 
 
 Ah ! still I feel 'tis sweet to lo\ e, — 
 Hut sweeter to he loved aiian). 
 
 YA\:W 
 
 % 
 
""f: 
 
 riioMA s <!A M nil': LI, 
 
 (B:i)oma0 Campbell 
 
 [lioMN 1777. \ii>'> »«44 J 
 
 Son (;. 
 
 RINK, yc to her that each loves best, 
 And if you nurse a flame 
 W Thai's told hut to her niiitual breast, 
 We will not ask her name. 
 
 iMiou^'h, while memory tranced and glad 
 
 l^aints silently the fair, 
 That each should dream of joys he's had, 
 
 Or yet may hope to share. 
 
 Yet far, far hence be jest or boast 
 I' rom hallowed thoughts so dear ; 
 
 Jiut drink to her that each loves most, 
 As she would love to hear. 
 
 v'^--^^OTvSy'* 
 
'kr 
 
 82 
 
 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 ■3? 
 
 So 1)11 Sl)auj, ill. Ta. 
 
 [Born 1778. Died 1809.] 
 
 Song. 
 
 HO has robbed the ocean cave, 
 
 To tinge thy lips with coral hue ? 
 Who, from India's distant wave, 
 
 For thee those pearly treasures drew ? 
 Who, from yonder orient sky. 
 Stole the morning of thine eye ? 
 
 Thousand charms thy form to deck, 
 
 From sea, and earth, and air are torn ; 
 Roses bloom upon thy cheek. 
 
 On thy breath their fragrance borne : 
 Guard thy bosom from the day, 
 Lest thy snows should melt away. 
 
 But one charm remains behind, 
 
 Which mute earth could ne'er impart j 
 Nor in ocean wilt thou find, 
 Nor in the circling air, a heart : 
 Fairest, wouldst thou perfect be. 
 Take, oh take that heart from me. 
 
 is. 
 
THOMAS MOORE. 183 
 
 3:1)0111110 ilTaorc. 
 
 [Born 1780. Died 1852.] 
 
 " Come, Rest in this Bosom." 
 OME, i-cst in this bosom, my own stricken 
 
 JV Though the herd have fled from thee, thy 
 home is still here ; 
 Here still is the smile that no cloud can o'ercast, 
 And a heart and a hand all thy own to the last. 
 
 Oh ! what was love made for, if 'tis not the same 
 Through joy and through torment, through glory and 
 
 shame ? 
 I know not, I ask not, if guilt's in that heart, 
 I hut know that I love thee, whatever thou art. 
 
 Thou hast called me thy Angel in moments of bliss. 
 And thy Angel I'll be, 'mid the horrors of this. 
 Through the furnace, unshrinking, thy steps to pursue. 
 And shield thee, and save thee, or perish there too. 
 
 -% 
 
.S4 
 
 i!i)i)i( OF a'///.'/a;n 
 
 H !• 1. I !■ V K M !■:." 
 
 'V 
 
 J^"l':i.lK.VK lur, it" all those ciulcMriiii^ vomii; 
 l§|i;JW (.-harms, 
 
 y^ y \Vhi(-h I ^a/c DM so loiulU to-ila\, 
 
 W'lTi- l() ihaiiL!,*." in to-nuMio\v, ami llcn-t in 
 
 inv anus, 
 l.iki- tairv i;it"ts t;uliii>; a\va\ , 
 Thou WDuKlst still hr aiioicnl, as this luoim-iit thou ait, 
 
 I-i-t thy loveliness l.ule as it will, 
 And aiduiul the ileal ruin i-aeh wish ot" ni\ heart 
 W'ouKl entwine itselt" \c'iilantl\ still. 
 
 ll IS not wliile IhmiHn ami \oiith are thine invn. 
 
 Ami ihv eiieeks unpivitaneil h\ a tear, 
 I'hat the rervi>r ami iaith oi :\ soul ean he known, 
 
 To which time will hvit make thee nuue dear ; 
 No, the heart that has truly lo\ed ne\ er forgets, 
 
 Hut as tiulv loves on to the eK>se, 
 As the sunHinver turns on her gml, when he sets, 
 
 I'he same look, which she turned when he rose. 
 
 y» 
 
THOMAS MOORE 
 
 •n 
 
 i85 
 
 "The Time I've Lost." 
 
 HE time I've lost in wooing, 
 In watching and pursuing 
 The Hght that lies 
 In woman's eyes, 
 Has been my heart's undoing. 
 Though wisdom oft has sought me, 
 I scorned the lore she brought me. 
 My only books 
 Were woman's looks. 
 And folly's all they taught me. 
 
 Her smile when Beauty granted, 
 I hung with gaze enchanted, 
 
 Like him the sprite 
 
 Whom maids by night 
 Oft meet in glen that's haunted. 
 Like him, too. Beauty won me ; 
 
 If once their ray 
 
 Was turned away, 
 O ! winds could not outrun me. 
 
 And 
 
 those follies 
 
 going 
 
 And is my proud heart growing 
 16* 
 
1 8b 
 
 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 Too cold or wise 
 
 For brilliant eyes 
 Again to set it glowing ? 
 No — vain, alas ! th' endeavor 
 From bonds so sweet to sever 
 
 Poor wisdom's chance 
 
 Against a glance 
 Is now as weak as ever. 
 
 " COULDST THOU LOOK AS DKAR." 
 
 OULDST thou look as dear as when 
 
 First I sighed for thee, 
 Couldst thou make me feel again 
 Fvery wish I breathed thee then, 
 
 Oh, how blissful life would be ! 
 Hopes that now beguiling leave me, 
 
 Joys that lie in slumber cold. 
 All would wake, couldst thou but give me 
 
 One dear smile like those of old. 
 
 il^ 
 
 Oh, there's nothing left us now 
 
 But to mourn the past : — 
 Vain was every ardent vow, 
 Never yet did Heaven allow 
 Love so warm, so wild, to last. 
 
 i% 
 
THOMAS MOORE. 
 
 Not even Hope could now deceive me, 
 Life itself looks dark and cold ; 
 
 Oh, thou never more canst give me 
 One dear smile like those of old. 
 
 ,87 
 
 " Oh, yes so V^'ELL." 
 
 H, yes — so well, so tenderly 
 
 Thou'rt loved, adored by me ; 
 Fame, fortune, wealth, and liberty. 
 
 Are worthless without thee. 
 Though brimmed with blisses pure and rare, 
 
 Life's cup before me lay, 
 Unless thy love were mingled there 
 
 I'd spurn the draught away. 
 
 Without thy smile, how joylessly 
 
 All glory's meeds I see ! 
 And even the wreath of victory 
 
 Must owe its bloom to thee. 
 Those worlds for which the conqueror sighs, 
 
 For me have now no charms ; 
 My only world those radiant eyes. 
 
 My throne those circling arms. 
 
 .«. 
 
VST 
 
 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 Echoes. 
 
 OW sweet the answer Echo makes 
 
 To Music at night, 
 When, roused by lute or horn, she wakes, 
 And far away o'er lawns or lakes 
 
 Goes answering light ! 
 
 Yet Love hath echoes truer far, 
 
 And far more sweet. 
 Than e'er, beneath the moonlight's star, 
 Of horn, or lute, or soft guitar. 
 
 The songs repeat. 
 
 'Tis when the sigh, — in youth sincere, 
 
 And only then, — 
 The sigh that's breathed for one to hear. 
 Is by that one, that only Dear, 
 
 Breathed back again. 
 
 ^. 
 
 J^jrr rf '-^ ■■M-t 
 
 
ALLAN CUNNINGHAM. 
 
 QVllau Cunningliam. 
 
 [Born 1784. Died 184a.] 
 
 Bonnie Lady Ann. 
 
 HERE'S kames o' hinnie 'tween my luve's 
 lips, 
 
 And gowd amang her hair; 
 Her breists are lapt in a holy veil, 
 
 Nae mortal een keek there. 
 What lips daur kiss, or what hand daur touch, 
 
 Or what arm o' luve daur span, 
 The hinnie lips, the creamy lufe, 
 
 Or the waist o' Lady Ann ? 
 
 She kisses the lips o' her bonnie red rose, 
 
 Wat wi' the blobs o' dew ; 
 But nae gentle lip nor semple lip 
 
 Maun touch her ladie mou. 
 But a broider'd belt, wi' a buckle o' gowd, 
 
 Her jimpy waist maun span ; 
 Oh, she's an armfu' fit for heaven — 
 
 My bonnie Lady Ann ! 
 
 -1% 
 
% 
 
 190 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 Her bower casement is latticed wi' flowers 
 
 Tied up wi' siller thread ; 
 And comely sits she in the midst, 
 
 Men's longing een to feed. 
 She waves the ringlets frae her cheek 
 
 Wi' her milky, milky han' ; 
 And her every look beams wi' grace divine. 
 
 My bonnie Lady Ann. 
 
 The mornin' cloud is tasselt wi' gowd. 
 
 Like my luve's broidered cap ; 
 And on the mantle that my luve wears 
 
 Is many a gowden drap. 
 Her bonnie ee-bree's a holy arch, 
 
 Cast by nae earthly han' ; 
 And the breath o' heaven is atween the lips 
 
 O' my bonnie Lady Ann. 
 
 I wonderin' gaze on her stately steps. 
 
 And I feed a hopeless flame ; 
 To my luve, alas ! she mauna stoop. 
 
 It wad stain her honored name. 
 My een are bauld, they dwall on a place 
 
 Where I daurna mint my han' ; 
 But I water and tend and kiss the flowers 
 
 O' my bonnie Lady Ann. 
 
 i* 
 
A; 
 
 ALLAN CUNNINGHAM. 19J 
 
 I am her father's gardener lad, 
 
 And puir, puir is my fa' ; 
 My auld mither gets my wee wee fee, 
 
 With fatherless bairnies twa. 
 My lady comes, my lady gaes, 
 
 Wi' a fu' and kindly han' ; 
 Oh, their blessin' maun mix wi' my luve, 
 
 And fa' on Lady Ann ! 
 
 i^l^ S!> 
 
e 
 
 92 HOOK OF RUlilES. 
 |»..KN 17SS. Dui) i8z4.J 
 
 — S5» 
 
 
 /_^^ft^<,,- F A li i: w r. 1. 1. ! 
 
 
 
 ■M^ ARKWELL! ifc-vn toiuU-st piaycT 
 
 
 
 '"W For other's \vc-;il iivaikHl on liigh. 
 
 
 
 W' Miiu' will not all hf lost in aif. 
 
 
 
 "m Uut wait th\ name In-Nnml the sky. 
 
 
 
 ^Ja, ' lis \ain to spi'ak, io wct-p, to sigh ; 
 
 
 
 Y' Oh ! mon- than tears ot blood (.an tell, 
 
 
 
 When wrung from guilt's expiring eye. 
 
 
 
 Arc in the word — Farewell ! Farewell ! 
 
 
 
 These lips arc mute, these eyes are dry ; 
 
 
 
 Hut in my hreast, and in my brain, 
 
 
 
 Awake the pangs that pass nttt b\'. 
 
 
 
 I'he thought tliat ne'er shall sleep again. 
 
 
 
 M\ soul nor ileiij;ns, nor i.laies complain. 
 
 
 
 Though grietaiul passion there rebel ; 
 
 
 
 I only know 1 lo\ ed in vain — 
 
 
 
 1 onK tech ^Farewell ' Farewell ! 
 
 
 !L 
 
 
 —3 
 
G i<: o n a /<;, a o n i> n v n o m. 
 
 193 
 
 *^Wiii:n wI' Two i'ai<ii:u." 
 
 iNj^I IICN vvi- two |);irlc«l 
 In silfiKC aiul tears, 
 Y Hair hrokc-ii-hcartc-il, 
 10 scvc'i' (or years, 
 Pale gicw the clicc'k ami cold, 
 
 Colder lliy kiss ! 
 'I'riily tlial hour lorelold 
 Sorrow lo this. 
 
 The dew ot (he morning 
 
 Sunk (hill on my hrow, 
 It Ic-ll like a warninji; 
 
 or what 1 Ilk now. 
 '\\\y vows ai'c all hiokcn, 
 
 And lij;hl is ihy lame ; 
 1 liear thy name spoki-n, 
 
 And share in its shame. 
 
 They name thee before mc, 
 A knell to mine ear ; 
 
 A shudder comes o'er n)e — 
 Why wi-rt thou so dear? 
 17 
 
 ^ 
 
VST 
 
 J? 
 
 194 BOOK OF h'riUKS. 
 
 They know not 1 know thee, 
 Wlio know thee too well ! 
 
 Long, K)ng shall I rue thee 
 'I\)o deeply to tell. 
 
 In secret we met. 
 
 In silence I grie\e. 
 That thy heart wouKl forget, 
 
 Thy spirit deceive. 
 If I should meet thee 
 
 After \ong years. 
 How should 1 greet thee ? 
 
 With silence and tears ! 
 
 (j^TTa saw thee weejf — the big, bright tear 
 /bB'^v ^ 'I'l^i-* (j'^"!' tliat eye of blue ; 
 V^ ,'^ And then mcthought it did ajipear 
 /.-^ A vit)let dropping dew. 
 
 ir 1 saw tliec sn\ile — the sappliire's blaze 
 Heside thee cease to shine : 
 It could not match the li\ ing rays 
 That tilled that <ilance of thine. 
 
 is. 
 
 2f. 
 
G p: li (1 /■:, L n i> n y h < > m. 
 
 As clouds from yonder sun receive 
 
 A deep and mellow dye, 
 Whkh scarce tlic shade of coming eve 
 
 Can banish from the sky, 
 These smiles unto the moodiest mind 
 
 Their own pure joy impart -, 
 Their sunshine leaves a glow behind 
 
 That lightens o'er the heart. 
 
 195 
 
 ^ Thk 11i:i{Ri:w Maid. 
 
 HP: walks in beauty, like the night 
 
 Of cloudless climes and starry skies, 
 And all that's best of dark and bright 
 
 Meet in her aspect and her eyes. 
 Thus mellowed to that tender light 
 
 Which heaven to gaudy day denies. 
 
 One shade the more, one ray the less, 
 Had half impaired the nameless grace 
 
 Which waves in every raven tress, 
 Or softly lightens o'er her face, 
 
 Where thoughts serenely sweet express 
 How pure, how dear their dwelling-place. 
 
 i** 
 
Vr 
 
 196 HOOK OF nUIilES. 
 
 And on that cheek and o'er that brow 
 So soft, so cahn, vet eloquent, 
 
 The smiles that win, the tints that glow, 
 But tell of days in goi)dness spent, — 
 
 A mind at peace with all heK)W, 
 A heart whose love is innocent. 
 
 Song. 
 
 HERE he none of Beautv's daughters 
 
 With a magic like thee ; 
 And like music on the waters 
 
 Is thy sweet voice to me : 
 When, as if its sound were causing 
 The charmed ocean's pausing. 
 The waves lie still and gleaming. 
 And the lulled winds seem dreaming. 
 
 Ami the midnight moon is weaving 
 Her bright chain o'er the deep. 
 
 Whose heart is gentlv hea\ ing 
 As an infant's asleep : 
 
 So the spirit bows before thee 
 
 To listen and adore thee ; 
 
 ^Vith a full but soft emotion 
 
 Like tlie swell of summer's ocean. 
 
 .VL 
 
 3i 
 
MAfi/A JUiOOKS. 
 
 197 
 
 illavia JEJ looks. 
 
 Song. 
 
 AY, in mcltiiij^ purple dying, 
 Blossoms, all around mc sighing, 
 '•/• Fragrance, from the lilies straying, 
 Zephyr, with niy ringlets playnig. 
 
 Ye but waken my distress ; 
 
 I am sick of loneliness. 
 
 Thou, to whom 1 love to hearken. 
 Come, ere night around me darken ; 
 'I'hough thy softness hut deceive mc, 
 Say thou'rt true, and I'll believe thee ; 
 Veil, if ill, thy soul's intent. 
 Let me think it innocent ! 
 
 Save thy toiling, spare thy treasure : 
 All I ask is friendship's pleasure ; 
 Let the shining ore lie darkling. 
 Bring no gem in lustre sparkling : 
 Gifts and gold are naught to mc, 
 I would only look on thee ! 
 17* 
 
 i% 
 
198 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 Tell to thee the high-wrought feeling. 
 
 Ecstasy but in revealing ; 
 
 Paint to thee the deep sensation. 
 
 Rapture in participation, 
 
 Yet but torture, if comprest 
 In a lone, unfriended breast. 
 
 Absent still ! Ah ! come and bless me ! 
 
 Let these eyes again caress thee ; 
 
 Once, in caution, I could fly thee : 
 
 Now, I nothing could deny thee ; 
 In a look if death there be, 
 Come, and I will gaze on thee ! 
 
 i?2 25& 
 
WILLIAM CULL EN BRYANT. 
 
 ■5? 
 
 199 
 
 lUillitam €ullcu iSrnaut. 
 
 [Born 1795.J 
 
 V 
 
 vl*/ Oh, Fairest of the Rural Maids ! 
 
 ^/» H, fairest of the rural maids ! 
 
 Thy birth was in the forest shades ; 
 Green boughs, and gHmpses of the sky, 
 Were all that met thy infant eye. 
 
 Thy sports, thy wanderings, when a child, 
 Were ever in the sylvan wild ; 
 And all the beauty of the place 
 Is in thy heart and on thy face. 
 
 The twilight of the trees and rocks 
 Is in the light shade of thy locks ; 
 Thy step is as the wind, that weaves 
 Its playful way among the leaves. 
 
 JSL 
 
 Thine eyes are springs, in whose serene 
 And silent waters heaven is seen : 
 
 ii^. 
 
VST 
 
 200 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 Their lashes are the herbs that look 
 On their young figures in the brook. 
 
 The forest depths, by foot unpress'd. 
 Are not more sinless than thy breast 
 The holy peace that fills the air 
 Of those calm solitudes, is there. 
 
 R 
 
 % 
 
•«■ 
 
 TSf 
 
 JOSEPH RODMAN DRAKE, M. D. 
 
 [Born 1795. Died i8zo.] 
 
 To Sarah. 
 
 NE happy year has fled, Sail, 
 
 Since you were all my own -, 
 The leaves have felt the autumn blight, 
 
 The wintry storm has blown. 
 We heeded not the cold blast. 
 
 Nor the winter's icy air ; 
 For we found our climate in the heart. 
 
 And it was summer there. 
 
 The summer sun is bright, Sail, 
 
 The skies are pure in hue ; 
 But clouds will sometimes sadden them, 
 
 And dim their lovely blue ; 
 And clouds may come to us, Sail, 
 
 But sure they will not stay ; 
 For there's a spell in fond hearts 
 
 To chase their gloom away. 
 
 J 
 
K 
 
 202 
 
 BOOK OF RUniES. 
 
 In sickness and in sorrow 
 
 Thine eyes were on nic still, 
 Anil tlieie was comfort in each glance 
 
 To charm the sense of ill ; 
 And were they absent now, Sail, 
 
 IM seek, my bed t)f pain, 
 And bless each pang that gave me back 
 
 Those looks of love again. 
 
 C), pleasant is the welcome kiss, 
 
 WMien da\'s dull round is o'er, 
 And sweet the music of the step 
 
 That meets me at the door. 
 Though worldly cares may \isit us, 
 
 1 reck not when they fall, 
 While I have thy kind lips, my Sail, 
 
 To smile away them all. 
 
 .«. 
 
iJY 
 
 F ITZ- a li K E N /-; II A /. 1. 1: c k. 
 
 203 
 
 Jitj-C&rccnc i^allcck, 
 
 [IJOKN 1795. J 
 
 ' V* M A(; I) A r. !•; N. 
 
 - SWORD, wliosc blade has lu-'cr Ik-cm wet 
 
 With hh)()(l, except of I* rccdom's foes ; 
 Tliat hojii' which, thcjiigh its sun he set. 
 
 Still with a starlight beauty glows ; 
 A heart that woishippcd in Romance 
 
 The Spirit of the Innicd Time, 
 And dreams of knight, and stec'd, and lance. 
 
 And ladye-love, and minstrel-rhyme ; 
 'I'hese had been, and 1 deemed would be 
 My joy, whate'er my destiny. 
 
 I^orn in a camp, its watch-fires bright 
 Alone illumed my cradle-bed ; 
 
 And I had borne with wild delight 
 My banner where Holivar led. 
 
 Ere manhood's hue was on my cheek. 
 Or manhood's pride was on my brow. 
 
 M, 
 
Ve— 
 
 204 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 Its folds are furl'd — the war-bird's beak 
 
 Is thirsty on the Andes now ; 
 I longed, like her, for other skies 
 Clouded by Glory's sacrifice. 
 
 In Greece, the brave heart's Holy Land, 
 
 Its soldier-song the bugle sings j 
 \nd I had buckled on my brand, 
 
 And waited but the sea-wind's wings, 
 To bear me where, or lost or won 
 
 Her battle, in its frown or smile, 
 Men live with those of Marathon, 
 
 Or die with those of Scio's isle ; 
 And Hnd in Valour's tent or tomb, 
 In life or death, a glorious home. 
 
 I could have left but yesterday 
 
 The scene of my boy-years behind, 
 And floated on my careless way 
 
 Wherever willed the breathing wind. 
 I could have bid adieu to aught 
 
 I've sought, or met, or welcomed here, 
 Without an hour of shaded thought, 
 
 A sigh, a murmur, or a tear. 
 Such was I yesterday — but then 
 I had not known thee, Magdalen. 
 
 iSf 
 
/'' ITZ-a n K K N K 11 A L L K (J K. 20 5 
 
 To-day there is a change within nic, 
 
 There is a weight upon my brow, 
 Aiui Fame, whose whispers once could win me 
 
 From all 1 loved, is powerless now. 
 There ever is a form, a face 
 
 Of maiden beauty in my dreams, 
 Speeding before me, like the race 
 
 'I\) ocean of the mountain streams — 
 With dancing hair, and laughing eyes, 
 'Fhat seem to mock me as it flies. 
 
 My sword — i-t slumbers in its sheath ; 
 
 My hopes — their starry light is gone ; 
 My heart — the fabled clock of death 
 
 Beats with the same low, lingering tone : 
 And this, the land of Magdalen, 
 
 Seems now the only spot on earth 
 Where skies are blue and flowers are green ; 
 
 And here I'd build my household hearth, 
 And breathe my song of joy, and twine 
 A lovely being's name with mine. 
 
 In vain ! in vain ! the sail is spread ; 
 
 To sea ! to sea ! my task is there ; 
 But when among the unmourned dead 
 
 They lay me, and the ocean air 
 18 
 
%■ 
 
 206 
 
 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 Brings tidings of my day of doom, 
 
 Mayst thou be then, as now thou art, 
 
 The load-star of a happy home ; 
 
 In smile and voice, in eye and heart, 
 
 The same as thou hast ever been, 
 
 The loved, the lovely Magdalen. 
 
 ^V 
 
Sf 
 
 JOHN KEATS. 207 
 
 [Born 1795. Died 1821.] 
 
 Sonnet. 
 
 ^!^^ RIGHT star ! would I were steadfast as thou 
 art — 
 '"^^ Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night, 
 And watching, with eternal lids apart, 
 Like Nature's patient, sleepless Eremite, 
 
 The moving waters at their priest-like task 
 Of pure ablution round earth's human shores. 
 
 Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask 
 
 Of snow upon the mountains and the moors : — 
 
 No — yet still steadfast, still unchangeable, 
 Pillowed upon my fair love's ripening breast. 
 
 To feel forever its soft fall and swell. 
 Awake forever in a sweet unrest •, 
 
 Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath. 
 And so live ever, — or else swoon to death. 
 
208 
 
 n OOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 [Born 1795. Died 182a.] 
 
 Lines to an Indian Air. 
 
 ARISE from dreams of Thee, 
 
 In the first sweet sleep of night, 
 When the winds are breathing low, 
 
 And the stars are shining bright ; 
 I arise from dreams of thee, 
 
 And a spirit in my feet 
 Has led me — who knows how ? 
 
 To thy chamber-window, Sweet ! 
 
 The wandering airs they faint 
 
 On the dark, the silent stream— 
 The champak odours fail 
 
 Like sweet thoughts in a dream 
 The nightingale's complaint 
 
 It dies upon her heart. 
 As I must die on thine, 
 
 O beloved as thou art ! 
 
?e 
 
 /' K R CY BY S S II E S II K L L E Y. 
 
 O lift me from the grass ! 
 
 I die, I faint, I fail ! 
 I/Ct thy love in kisses rain 
 
 On my lips and eyelids pale. 
 My cheek is cold and white, alas ! 
 
 My heart beats loud and fast ; 
 O ! press it close to thine again, 
 
 Where it will break again at last. 
 
 209 
 
 Song. 
 
 FEAR thy kisses, gentle maiden •, 
 Thou needest not fear mine ; 
 
 My spirit is too deeply laden 
 Ever to burden thine. 
 
 I fear thy mien, thy tones, thy motion 
 Thou needest not fear mine ; 
 
 Innocent is the heart's devotion 
 With which I worship thine. 
 
 .^ 
 
 18* 
 
K 
 
 ZlO 
 
 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 ^ 
 
 Love's Philosophy. 
 
 HE fountains mingle with the river, 
 
 And the rivers with the ocean, 
 The winds of heaven mix forever 
 
 With a sweet emotion ; 
 Nothing in the world is single, 
 
 All things by a law divine 
 In one another's being mingle — 
 
 Why not I with thine ? 
 
 See the mountains kiss high heaven, 
 
 And the waves clasp one another ; 
 No sister flower would be forgiven 
 
 If it disdained its brother : 
 And the sunlight clasps the earth. 
 
 And the moonbeams kiss the sea— 
 What are all these kissings worth 
 
 If thou kiss not me ? 
 
 ?^2C 
 
 is. 
 
 3k 
 
J ' A' A' (J Y n YS S II E S J I A' A A A' Y. 
 
 
 Song. 
 
 |.;^VBNE word is too often profancil 
 
 J'"or me to profane it, 
 •(• i^ One feeling too falsely disdained 
 I For thee to disdain it. 
 
 One hope is too like despair 
 For prudence to smother, 
 And Pity from thee more dear 
 Than that from another. 
 
 I can give not what men call love \ 
 
 15ut wilt thou accept not 
 The worship the heart lifts above 
 
 And the Heavens reject not : 
 The desire of the moth f(jr the star, 
 
 Of the night for the morrow. 
 The devotion to something afar 
 
 From the sphere of our sorrcjw ? 
 
 ,VL 
 
212 
 
 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 Thk Flight of Love. 
 
 HEN the huup is shattcicil, 
 
 The liglit in the Just Hcs dead — 
 ?, Y V W'hc-n tlu- cK)ud is scatteicti, 
 
 / Tlic iainhi)\v's glory is shed. 
 
 ^ When the lute is broken, 
 
 Sweet tones are reniembeied not 
 When the lips ha\e spoken, 
 l/0\ed accents are soon tortjot. 
 
 As music and splendour 
 
 Sur\ive woi the lamp ami the lute, 
 The heart's echoes render 
 
 No song when the spirit is mute — 
 No song hut sail dirges. 
 
 Like the wind through a ruined eel 
 Or the mourntul surges 
 
 That ring the dead seaman's knell. 
 
 When hearts have once mingled, 
 
 Love first leaves the well-built nest ; 
 
 The weak one is singled 
 
 Yo endure what it once possessed. 
 
'.: 
 
 S 
 
 
 PKIiCY JiVHt^lfK .^11 NLLI'.y. 21^ 
 
 
 () I^ovc ! wlio bcwailcst 
 
 
 The frailty of all things here, 
 
 
 Why choose you the frailest 
 
 
 Vov your nacUe, your home, aiul your bier ' 
 
 
 Its passions will loek thee, 
 
 
 As the storms roek the ravens on high •, 
 
 
 P.riirhl reason will mock thee 
 
 
 l>ike the sun from a wintry sky. 
 
 
 J'^rom thy nest every ratter 
 
 
 Will rot, and thine eagle home 
 
 
 J/eavc thee naked to laughter, 
 
 
 When leaves fall and cold winds come. 
 
 -0. A 
 
 SL 
 
TfSJ" 
 
 214 
 
 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 "S 
 
 C)artlcn vHolcri&gc 
 
 [Born 1796. Died 1849.] 
 
 hHE is not fair to outward view, 
 
 As many maidens be ; 
 Her loveliness I never knew 
 
 Until she smiled on me. 
 O then I saw her eye was bright, 
 A well of love, a spring of light. 
 
 But now her looks are coy and cold. 
 To mine they ne'er reply ; 
 
 And yet I cease not to behold 
 The love-light in her eye : 
 
 Her very frowns are fairer far 
 
 Than smiles of other maidens are. 
 
 .»■ 
 
 % 
 
BRYAN WALLER PROCTOR. 215 
 
 iSrsau lUaller |)rcictor. 
 
 [Born 1796 (?).] 
 
 
 Song. 
 
 Y love is a lady of gentle line, 
 
 Towards some like the cedar bending, 
 
 Towards me she flies, like a shape divine 
 From heaven to earth descending. 
 
 Her very look is life to me. 
 
 Her smile like the clear moon rising. 
 And her kiss is sweet as the honeyed bee, 
 
 And more and more enticing. 
 
 Mild is my love as the summer air. 
 And her cheek (her eyes half closing) 
 
 Now rests on her full-blown bosom fair, 
 Like Languor on Love reposing. 
 
 >£ - . ^. 
 
f. 
 
 - 
 
 210 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 
 ^f 
 
 
 f"^^ Song. 
 "^JERE'S a health to thee, Mary, 
 
 
 Q'IhB Here's a health to thee ; 
 
 
 The drinkers are gone. 
 
 
 And I am alone. 
 
 
 To think of home and thee, Mary. 
 
 
 There are some who may shine o'er thee, Mary, 
 
 
 And many as frank and free, 
 
 
 And a few as fair ; 
 
 
 But the summer air 
 
 
 Is not more sweet to me, Mary. 
 
 
 I have thought of thy last low sigh, Mary, 
 
 
 And thy dimmed and gentle eye ; 
 
 
 And I've called on thy name 
 
 
 When the night-winds came. 
 
 
 And heard thy heart reply, Mary. 
 
 
 Be thou but true to me, Mary, 
 
 
 And I'll be true to thee ; 
 
 
 And at set of sun. 
 
 
 When my task is done. 
 
 
 Be sure that I'm ever with thee, Mary ! 
 
 
 fL ______ 
 
 _S 
 
'^jrr 
 
 BliYAN WALLER PROCTOR. 
 
 Serenade. 
 
 'fl vi ISTEN ! from the forest boughs 
 7]^^ The voice-like angel of the spriii; 
 "1 ^ Utters his soft vows 
 
 '(T 
 
 t To the proud rose blc 
 
 And now beneath the lattice, dear ! 
 
 I am like thy bird complaining : 
 Thou above, I fear, 
 
 Like the rose, disdaining. 
 
 From her chamber in the skies 
 
 Shoots the lark at break of mornini; 
 
 And when daylight flies 
 
 Comes the raven's warning. 
 
 This of gloom and that of mirth 
 In their mystic numbers tell ; 
 
 But thoughts of sweeter birth 
 Teacheth the nightingale. 
 
 :Vi. 
 
 JC: 
 
^ 
 
 2l8 ]}00K OF AT/i/AVS'. 
 
 UlilHam iltotl)cviucl 
 
 [Born .797. H.m. .835.] 
 
 A I HAN IF. iMoRRlSON. 
 
 '\^E ^^'•^"^^^''■c*-' ^"is^ I'^''^ waiulorcd west, 
 
 Thicnigh nionv <\ weary way ! 
 But never, never can forget 
 V^^ 'The lave o' life's young day. 
 TIk' i'lii:" that's blawn on lieltanc e'en 
 May vveel be hlaek. gin '^ ule ; 
 But blacker fa' awaits the heart 
 Where iirst fond luve grows cool. 
 
 C) dear, dear Jeanie Morrison, 
 
 The thoehts o' bygane years 
 Still fling their shadows owcr my path, 
 
 And blind nn' een wi' tears ! 
 They blind my cen wi' saut, saut tears, 
 
 And sair and sick I pine, 
 As memory idly summons up 
 
 The blythe blinks o' lang s\ nc. 
 
 AS. 
 
WIL LI A M M THE R W K L L. 2 1 9 
 
 'Twas then we luvit ilk ither weel, 
 
 'Twas then we twa did part ; 
 Sweet time — sad time ! twa bairns at schule, 
 
 Twa bairns, and but ac heart ! 
 'Twas then we sat on ae laigh bink, 
 
 To Icir ilk ither Icar ; 
 And tones, and looks, and smiles were shed, 
 
 Remembered cvermair. 
 
 1 wonder, Jeanie, aften yet. 
 
 When sitting on that bink. 
 Cheek touchin' cheek, loof locked in loof, 
 
 What our wee heads could think ! 
 When baith bent down ower ae braid page, 
 
 Wi' ae bulk on our knee, 
 Thy lips were on thy lesson, but 
 
 My lesson was in thee. 
 
 Oh, mind ye how we hung our heads. 
 
 How cheeks brent red wi' shame, 
 Whene'er the schule-weans laughin' said, 
 
 We decked thegitiier hame ? 
 And mind ye o' the Saturdays 
 
 (The schule then skail't at noon), 
 When we ran off to speel the braes — 
 
 The broomy braes o' June ? 
 
 it 
 
BOOK OF 11 UniES. 
 
 My head rins round and round about, 
 
 My heart flows like a sea, 
 As ane by anc the thochts rush back 
 
 O' schule-time and o' thee. 
 O mornin' hfe ! O mornin' luve ! 
 
 O lichtsome days and lang. 
 When hinnied hopes around our hearts, 
 
 Like simmer-blossoms, sprang ! 
 
 Oh, mind ve, hive, how aft we left 
 
 The deavin' dinsome toun. 
 To wander by the green burnside. 
 
 And hear its water croon ? 
 The simmer lca\es hung owcr our heads, 
 
 Tlic flt)wers burst round our feet. 
 And in the gloamin' o' the wud 
 
 The throssil whusslit sweet. 
 
 The throssil whusslit in the wud. 
 
 The burn sung to the trees. 
 And we, with Nature's heart in tune. 
 
 Concerted harmonies ; 
 And on the knowe abune the burn 
 
 For hours thegither sat 
 In the silentness o' joy, till baith 
 
 Wi' very gladness grat. 
 
 J 
 
?e 
 
 WILLIAM MOT/fMK WKLL. 
 
 Ave, aye, dear Jeanie Morrison, 
 
 Tears trinkled doun your cheek, 
 Like dew-beads on a rose, yet nane 
 
 Had ony power to speak ! 
 There was a time, a blessed time. 
 
 When hearts were fresh and young, 
 When freely gushed all feelings forth, 
 
 Unsyllabled — unsung. 
 
 1 marvel, Jeanie Morrison, 
 
 Cjin I hae been to thee 
 As closely twined wi' earliest thochts 
 
 As yc hae been to me ? 
 Oh, tell me gin their music fills 
 
 Thine ear as it does mine ; 
 Oh, say gin e'er your heart grows grit 
 
 Wi' dreamings o' langsyne ? 
 
 ii^ 
 
 I've wandered east, I've wandered west, 
 
 I've borne a weary lot •, 
 But in my wanderings far or near, 
 
 Ye never were forgot. 
 The fount that first burst frae this heart 
 
 Still travels on its way. 
 And channels deeper as it rins. 
 
 The life of luve's young day. 
 
 IQ* 
 
 iJi 
 
VS" 
 
 HOOK OF RV lilES. 
 
 Oh, tloai-, dear Jcanie Morrison, 
 
 Since \vc were sindered \'oung, 
 I've never seen your face, nor heard 
 
 l^he music o' your tongue ; 
 Hut I could hug all wretchedness, 
 
 And happ\' could I die, 
 Did 1 but ken your heart still dreamed 
 
 O' bygane days and me ! 
 
 lif 
 
 ^ 
 
VJT 
 
 /.I .i//;n A.l ir,s'r>.V. 
 
 3amc5 CaiDsou 
 
 [Born 1799.] 
 
 -v_^ SoNC. 
 
 HEN Spring, aii;i\f(l in flowers, Mary, 
 
 Danced with tlic Icaty trees •, 
 When larks sung to the sun, Mary, 
 
 And huinmed the wandering bees ; 
 Then Jirst we met and h)ved, Mary, 
 
 IJy Grieto's louping hnn ; 
 And blither was thy voice, Mary, 
 
 Than linties i' the whin. 
 
 Now Autumn winds blaw cauld, Mary, 
 
 Amang the withered boughs ; 
 And a' the botniy flowers, Mary, 
 
 Ai'e faded fVae the knowes; 
 But still thy love's unchanged, Mary, 
 
 Nac chilly Autumn there. 
 And sweet thy smile as Spring's, Mary, 
 
 Thy sunny face as fair. 
 
 y.i 
 
224 
 
 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 -^ 
 
 Nae mair the early lark, Mary, 
 
 Trills on his soaring way ; 
 Hushed is the lintie's sang, Mary, 
 
 Through a' the shortening day ; 
 But still thy voice I hear, Mary, 
 
 Like melody divine ; 
 Nae Autumn in my heart, Mary, 
 
 And Summer still in thine. 
 
 V^ 
 
 3/: 
 
t? 
 
 GEORGE P. MORRIS. 
 
 ©corgc p. lllorris, 
 
 [Born i8oi. Died 1864.] 
 
 " Where Hudson's Wave." 
 
 HERE Hudson's wave o'er silvery sands 
 
 Winds through the hills afar, 
 Old Cronest like a monarch stands, 
 
 Crowned with a single star ! 
 And there, amid the billowy swells 
 
 Of rock-ribbed, cloud-capped earth, 
 My fair and gentle Ida dwells, 
 
 A nymph of mountain birth. 
 
 The snow-flake that the clifF receives. 
 
 The diamonds of the showers, 
 Spring's tender blossoms, buds, and leaves, 
 
 The sisterhood of flowers. 
 Morn's early beam, eve's balmy breeze. 
 
 Her purity define ; 
 But Ida's dearer far than these 
 
 To this fond breast of mine. 
 
 My heart is on the hills. The shades 
 Of night are on my brow : 
 
K 
 
 226 BOOK OF R U B I E S. 
 
 Ye pleasant haunts and quiet glades, 
 Mv soul is with you now ! 
 
 I bless the stai-ciowned highlands where 
 Mv Ida's footsteps roam — 
 
 Oh ! tor a falcon's wing to bear 
 Me onward to my home. 
 
 L 
 
 ^ " When OTHKR Friknds." 
 
 HEN other friends are round thee, 
 
 And other hearts are thine ; 
 When other bays have crowned thtc, 
 
 More fresh and green than mine ; 
 Then think how sad and lonely 
 
 This doting heart will be, 
 Which, while it throbs, throbs only, 
 
 Beloved one, for thee ! 
 
 Yet do not think I doubt thee, 
 
 I know thy truth remains ; 
 I would not live without thee 
 
 For all the world contains. 
 Thou art the star that guides me 
 
 Along life's changing sea ; 
 And whate'er fate betides me, 
 
 'I'his heart still turns to thee. 
 
5- 
 
 E I) W A R D CO A T JC I'JNKNEY. 
 
 (Ebttjarb Coatc pinkucij. 
 
 [Born i8oa. Died 1828.] 
 
 ^ 
 
 227 
 
 
 \^ A Hkai.th. 
 
 ^-'^\' FII-I- this cup to one made up 
 'x- 0/ ■ ^^^ loveliness alone, 
 
 
 
 
 
 /V. A woman, of her gentle sex 
 
 
 
 \^ The seeming paragon ; 
 
 
 
 ^ To whom the better elements 
 
 
 
 And kindly stars have given 
 
 
 
 A form so fair, that, like the air, 
 
 
 
 'Tis less of earth than heaven. 
 
 
 
 Her every tone is music's owii. 
 
 
 
 Like those of morning birds, 
 
 
 
 And something more than melody 
 
 
 
 Dwells ever in her words ; 
 
 
 
 The coinage of her heart are they. 
 
 
 
 And from her lips each flows 
 
 
 
 As one may see the burdcn'd bee 
 
 
 
 Forth issue from the rose. 
 
 
 >— 
 
 
 •5 
 
^ 
 
 228 BOOK OF L'UniES. 
 
 Affections are as thoughts to her, 
 
 The measures of her hours ; 
 Her feelings ha\e the fragrancy, 
 
 The freshness of young flowers ; 
 And lovely passions, changing oft, 
 
 So iill her, she appears 
 The image of themseKcs by turns, — 
 
 The idol of past years ! 
 
 Of her bright face one glance will trace 
 
 A picture on the brain. 
 And of her voice in echoing hearts 
 
 A sound must long remain ; 
 But mcmor\-, such as mine of her. 
 
 So very much endears. 
 When death is nigh, my latest sigh 
 
 Will not be life's, but hers. 
 
 I fill'd this cup to one made up 
 
 Of loveliness alone, 
 A woman, of her gentle sex 
 
 The seeming paragon — 
 Her health ! and would on earth there stood 
 
 Some more of such a frame, 
 That life miglit be all poetry. 
 
 And weariness a name. 
 
 4^. 
 
%r 
 
 EDWARD CO ATE PINK NET. 
 
 229 
 
 SeREN ADK. 
 
 OOK out upon the stars, my love, 
 
 And shame them with thine eyes. 
 On which, than on the lights above. 
 
 There hang more destinies. 
 Night's beauty is the harmony 
 
 Of blending shades and light ; 
 Then, lady, up, — look out, and be 
 
 A sister to the night ! — 
 
 Sleep not ! — thine image wakes for aye 
 
 Within my watching breast : 
 Sleep not ! — from her soft sleep should fly, 
 
 Who robs all hearts of rest. 
 Nay, lady, from thy slumbers break. 
 
 And make this darkness gay 
 With looks, whose brightness well might ma'r 
 
 Of darker nights a day. 
 
 Song. 
 
 J^ 
 
 NEED not name thy thrilling name. 
 Though now I drink to thee, my dear. 
 
 Since all sounds shape that magic word. 
 That fall upon my ear, — Mary. 
 20 
 
 Vi_ 
 
230 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 And silence, with a wakeful voice, 
 Speaks it in accents loudly free. 
 
 As darkness hath a light that siiows 
 Thy gentle face to me, — Mary. 
 
 I pledge thee in the grape's pure soul. 
 
 With scarce one hope, and many fears 
 Mixed, were I of a melting mood, 
 
 With many bitter tears, — Mar\ — 
 I pledge thee, and the empty cup 
 
 Emblems this hollow life of mine. 
 To which, a gone enchantment, thou 
 
 No more wilt be the wine, — Mary. 
 
 Song, 
 
 E break the glass, whose sacred wine 
 
 To some beloved health we drain, 
 Lest future pledges, less divine. 
 
 Should e'er the hallowed toy profane ; 
 And thus I broke a heart that poured 
 
 Its tide of feelings out for thee. 
 In draughts, by after-times deplored, 
 
 Yet dear to memory. 
 
 Jfe. 
 
aT 
 
 /•; 1) \XA R D CO A TE FINK NK Y. 
 
 But still the old, impassioned ways 
 
 And habits of my mind remain, 
 And still unhappy light displays 
 
 Thine image chambered in my brain 
 And still it looks as when the hours 
 
 Went by like flights of singing-birds. 
 Or that soft chain of spoken flowers. 
 
 And airy gems — thy words. 
 
 231 
 
 A Picture Song. 
 
 OVV may this little tablet feign 
 
 The features of a face. 
 Which o'crinforms with loveliness 
 
 Its proper share of space ; 
 Or human hands on ivory, 
 
 tenable us to see 
 The charms that all must wonder at, 
 
 Thou work of gods in thee ! 
 
 But yet, methinks, that sunny smile 
 
 Familiar stories tells. 
 And I should know those placid eyes, 
 
 Two shaded crystal wells ; 
 
 
BOOK OF nUBIES. 
 
 Nor can my soul, the limner's art 
 
 Attesting with a sigh, 
 Forget the blood that decked thy cheek. 
 
 As rosy clouds the sky. 
 
 They could not semble what thou art. 
 
 More excellent than fair. 
 As soft as sleep or pity is. 
 
 And pure as mountain-air ; 
 But here are common, earthly hues. 
 
 To such an aspect wrought, 
 That none, save thine, can seem so like 
 
 The beautiful of thought. 
 
 The song I sing, thv likeness like. 
 
 Is painful mimicry 
 Of something better, which is now 
 
 A memory to me, 
 Who have upon life's frozen sea 
 
 Arrived the icy spot. 
 Where man's magnetic feelings show 
 
 Their guiding task forgot. 
 
 The sportive hopes, that used to chase 
 
 Their shifting shadows on. 
 Like children playing in the sun. 
 
 Are gone — forever gi)ne j 
 
 kL. 
 
K 
 
 K DWA U I) C A TE PIN K N K Y 
 
 iSf 
 
 233 
 
 Ami oil a careless, sullen peace, 
 
 My (louhlc-frontetl niiiul. 
 Like Janus when liis gates were shut. 
 
 Looks forward anil hchind. 
 
 Apollo placed his harp, of old, 
 
 A while upon a stone. 
 Which has resounded since, when struck, 
 
 A breaking harp-string's tone ; 
 And thus my heart, though wholly now 
 
 J'roni early softness free. 
 If touched, will yield the music yet 
 
 It first received of thee. 
 
 To H . 
 
 HE firstlings of my simple song 
 Were offered to tliy name ; 
 Again the altar, idle long, 
 
 In worship rears its flame. 
 My sacrifice of sullen years, 
 My many hecatombs of tears, 
 No happier hours recall — 
 
%" 
 
 234 !!(>(> K (> /•' A' /■ /; / 1-: s. 
 
 ^'ct nvA\ (h\ waiuiniiig tluniglits rcstmx' 
 Vo OIK- who cwy \o\cd tlu'o more 
 I'luiii \wk\c 1\. mine's all. 
 
 Aiul now, Cin'wcll ! — aiul although here 
 
 Men hate the souiee ot" jiain, 
 1 hold thee aiul thy tollies dear, 
 
 Nor o\ th\' taiilts eoiuphiin. 
 Vov in\- niisiised m\(\ hlighted powers, 
 M\- waste ot" nusi'iable hoins, 
 
 I will aeeuse thee not ;— 
 The tool who eouKI iVoni seltMi>part, 
 Anil take toi tale one huiuan heart, 
 
 I)eser\eil no better lot. 
 
 1 reek ot" mine the less, heeaiise 
 
 In wiser nu>ods 1 feel 
 A ilouhttiil iiuestion ot" its eausc 
 
 Ami nanue, on me ste.il — 
 An aneiem luuion, that time ihngs 
 Our pains and pleasmes from his wings 
 
 With tnueh equalitv — 
 And that, in reason, h.ippiness 
 Both ot'aeeession and deerease 
 
 Incapable must he. 
 
 i!^ 
 
 J% 
 
a; I) w A n I) a o a tic r i n k n p: y. 235 
 
 Unwisi', or most tin fort nnatc, 
 
 My way was ; U-t the si[!;n, 
 The proof" of it, he simply this — 
 
 Thou art iiol, wcit not mine! 
 ]'"())• 'tis tlic wont of c-hancc to l)Icss 
 Pursuit, ifpatii-nt, with succx'ss ; 
 
 And envy may ic|)inc, 
 That, commonly, somi- triumph must 
 ]5c won by every lasting lust. 
 
 llow I have lived imports not now; 
 
 1 am about to die, 
 Else I might chide thee that my life 
 
 Has been a stilleil sigli ; 
 Yes, life J for times beyond the line 
 Our parting traced, appear not mine, 
 
 Or of a world gone by; 
 And often almost would evince. 
 My soul had transmigrated since. 
 
 Pass wasted flowers ; alike the grave. 
 
 To which I fast go down. 
 Will give the joy of nothingness 
 
 To me, and to renown : 
 
 ^. 
 
K 
 
 236 noo K F li uniES. 
 
 Unto its careless tenants, fame 
 Is idle as that gilded name, 
 
 Of vanity the crown, 
 Helvetian hands inscribe upon 
 The forehead of a skeleton. 
 
 ■3? 
 
 List the last cadence of a lay, 
 
 That, closing as begun, 
 Is governed by a note of pain, 
 
 O, lost and worshipped one ! 
 None shall attend a sadder strain. 
 Till Memnon's statue stand again 
 
 To mourn the setting sun, — 
 Nor sweeter, if my numbers seem 
 To share the nature of their theme. 
 
 % 
 
VST 
 
 WILLIAM LEGGETT. 237 
 
 iDilHam ficggctt. 
 
 [BoEM 1 80a. Dte» 1840.] 
 
 Song. 
 
 l^RUST the frown thy features wear 
 
 Ere long into a smile will turn ; 
 I would not that a face so fair 
 
 As thine, beloved, should look so stern. 
 The chain of ice that winter twines. 
 
 Holds not for aye the sparkling rill, 
 It melts away when summer shines. 
 
 And leaves the waters sparkling still. 
 Thus let thy cheek resume the smile 
 
 That shed such sunny light before ; 
 And though I left thee for a while, 
 
 I'll swear to leave thee, love, no more. 
 
 As he who, doomed o'er waves to roam. 
 Or wander on a foreign strand, 
 
 Will sigh whene'er he thinks of home, 
 And better love his native land ; 
 
K 
 
 ■^ 
 
 2^H II O K F M UBIK S. 
 
 So 1, though lured a time away, 
 
 Like bees by varied sweets, to rove. 
 Return, hice bees, bv close of dav, 
 
 And lea\e them all tor thee, mv love. 
 'J'lieii let thy cheek resume the smile 
 
 'J'hat shell such sunn\^ liglit betoie, 
 And though I left thee for a while, 
 
 1 swear to lea\e thee, lo\ e, no more. 
 
 To El, MIR. x. 
 
 wRirrrN with French chalk* on a pane of glass in 
 .jy the house of a friend. 
 
 ^ N this frail glass, to others' view, 
 
 No written words appear ; 
 They see the prospect smiling through, 
 
 Nor deem what secret's here. 
 Hut shouldst tluni on the tablet bright 
 
 A single breath bestow, 
 At once the record starts to sight 
 
 Which onl\- thou must know. 
 
 * 'Vlu- substJiHc usually called French clialk (a variety of talc) has this 
 sini;ular property, that what is written on glass, though easily ruhhed out 
 again, so that no trace lemains visible, by being breathed on becomes inl- 
 ine liately distinctly legible. 
 
 .». 
 
 X 
 
K 
 
 \V I L I. I A M L !■:(! a HTT. 
 
 Thus, like this glass, to strangers' ga/,e 
 
 My heart seemed iinimpressetl •, 
 III vain did heaiitv round me hla/.e, 
 
 it could not warm my breast. 
 But as one breath of thine can make 
 
 These letters plain to see, 
 So in my heart did love awake 
 
 When breathed upon by thee. 
 
 39 
 
 
 k 
 
 ^. 
 
'^^ 
 
 240 
 
 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 Kobcrt ilTontgommj Bivb, iilD. 
 
 [BoKN 1803. Died 1854.] 
 
 'Ay^^^-^ 
 
 Serenade. 
 
 LEEP, sleep ! be thine the sleep that throws 
 v''* Elysium o'er the soul's repose, 
 
 Without a dream, save such as wind, 
 Like midnight angels, through the mind ; 
 While I am watching on the hill, 
 I, and the wailing whippoorwill. 
 
 O whippoorwill ! O whippoorwill ! 
 
 Sleep, sleep ! and once again I'll tell 
 The ott-pronounced, yet vain, farewell : 
 Such should his word, O maiden, be, 
 Who lifts the fated eye to thee ; 
 Such should it be, before the chain 
 That wraps his spirit, hinds his brain. 
 
 O whippoorwill ! O whippoorwill 
 
 4!L 
 
 Sleep, sleep ! the ship has left the shore, 
 The steed awaits his lord no more ; 
 
 J 
 
A' B K U T M NT G ME li Y Blli D, M. D. 1. 
 
 His lord still madly lingers by 
 
 The fatal maid he cannot fly, 
 
 And thrids the wood, and climbs the hill. 
 
 He and the wailing whippoorwill. 
 
 O whippoorwill ! O whippoorwill ! 
 
 K 
 
242 
 
 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 llufus ?]3au)C5 
 
 [Born 1803. Died 186-.] 
 
 ^^MS^^^^^ 
 
 Love Unchangeable. 
 
 ES ! still I love thee : — Tiiiic, who sets 
 
 His signet on my brow, 
 And dims my sunken eye, forgets 
 
 The heart he could not bow ; — 
 AVMiere love, that cannot perish, grows 
 For one, alas ! that little knows 
 
 How love mav sometimes last ; 
 Like sunshine wasting in the skies. 
 
 When clouds arc overcast. 
 
 The dew-drop hanging o'er the rose, 
 
 Within its robe of light. 
 Can never touch a leaf that blows, 
 
 Though scfiii'nig to the sight ; 
 And yet it still will linger there. 
 Like hopeless lo\ e without despair,— 
 
 A snow-drop in the sun ! 
 A moment tinelv excpiisite, 
 
 Alas ! but only one. 
 
%■ 
 
 RUFUS DA WES. 
 
 ^ 
 
 243 
 
 I would not have thy nianicd heart 
 
 Think momently of me, — 
 Nor would I tear the cords apart 
 
 lliat bind me so to thee ; 
 No ! while my thoughts seem pure and mild, 
 Like dew upon the roses wild, 
 
 I would not have thee know, 
 The stream that seems to thee so still, 
 
 Has such a tide below ! 
 
 Enough ! that in delicious dreams 
 
 I see thee and forget — 
 Enough, that when the morning beams, 
 
 I feel my eyelids wet ! 
 Yet, could I hope, when Time shall fall 
 The darkness, for creation's pall, 
 
 To meet thee, — and to love, — 
 1 would not shrink from aught below, 
 
 Nor ask for more above. 
 
 
%" 
 
 ^•44 
 
 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 IValpl) lUalio (CmciTion 
 
 [BOKN i8oj.] 
 
 To Eva. 
 
 'W^H fair and stately maid, whose eyes 
 Were kindled in the upper skies 
 
 At the same torch that lighted mine ; 
 A^ For so I must interpret still 
 
 riiy sweet dominion ocv my will, 
 A sympathy divine. 
 
 Ah, let me blameless ga/.e upon 
 Features that seem at heart my own ; 
 
 Nor fear those watchful sentinels, 
 Who charm the more their glance forbids. 
 Chaste-glowing, underneath their lids. 
 
 With fire that draws while it repels. 
 
 J% 
 
RALPH WALDO EMERSON. 
 
 -^ 
 
 245 
 
 k 
 
 v/ The Amulet. 
 
 "j^n^jf^OUR picture smiles as first it smiled ; 
 The ring you gave is still the same ; 
 Your letter tells, oh changing child ! 
 No tidino-s since it came. 
 
 Give me an amulet 
 
 That keeps intelligence with you — 
 Red when you love, and rosier red, 
 
 And when you love not, pale and blue. 
 
 Alas ! that neither bonds nor vows 
 
 Can certify possession : 
 Torments me still the fear that love 
 
 Died in its last expression. 
 
 iSL 
 
24(> 
 
 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 (fibmunii 3 HIT C&viffm, 
 
 [Born 1804. Died 1830.] 
 
 To A Lady. 
 
 IK.E target tor the arrow's aim, 
 
 Like snow beneath the siinnv heats, 
 
 Like wax before the glowing flame. 
 Like cloud before tlic wind that fleets, 
 
 I am — 'tis love that made me so. 
 
 And, lady, still thou sayst me no. 
 
 The wound's inflicted In tliine eves. 
 The mortal wound to liope and me, 
 
 Which naught, alas, can cicatri/.e, 
 
 Nor time, noi" absence, far from thee. 
 
 'I'hou art the sun, the lire, the wind, 
 
 That make me such ; ah, then be k'\iu\ ! 
 
 My thoughts are darts, my soul to smite -, 
 Thy charms the sun, to blind mv sense. 
 
 My wishes — ne'er tlid passion light 
 A flame nn)re pure or more intense. 
 
 Love all these arms at once employs. 
 
 And wounds, and da/./,1es, and destroys. 
 
 i?^ 
 
 i% 
 
^ 
 
 GEORGE D. rRENTIGE 
 
 247 
 
 ccirgc E). prentice* 
 
 [BOKN 1 804. J 
 
 A Lady. 
 
 THINK of thee when morning springs 
 From sleep, with plumage bathed in dew, 
 
 And, like a young bird, lifts her wings 
 Of gladness on the welkin blue. 
 
 And when, at noon, the breath of love 
 O'er flower and stream is wandering free. 
 
 And sent in music Worn the grove, 
 I think of thee — I think of thee. 
 
 I think of thee, when, soft and wide. 
 The evening spreads her robes of light. 
 
 And, like a young and timid bride, 
 Sits blushing in the arms of night. 
 
 .fe- 
 
 And when the moon's sweet crescent springs 
 In light o'er heaven's deep, waveless sea. 
 
 And stars are forth, like blessed things, 
 I think of thee — I think of thee. 
 
 y.i 
 
% — 
 
 24S 
 
 
 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 1 think of thee ; — that eye of flame, 
 Those tresses, falHng bright and free, 
 
 That brow, where " Beauty writes her name," 
 I think of thee — I think of thee. 
 
Sm EDWARD BULWER-LYTTON. 
 
 249 
 
 Sir iUbioarb Cntton JBultucr-Cimon. 
 
 [iJoRN 1805.] 
 
 Song. 
 
 HEN stars are in the quiet skies, 
 1\''M Ilif n most I pine for thee ; 
 
 ^/^ y Bend on me then thy tender eyes, 
 As stars look on the sea. 
 P'or thoughts, Hke waves that glide hy night, 
 
 Are stillest when they shine, 
 Mine earthly love lies hushed in light 
 Beneath the heaven of thine. 
 
 i?L 
 
 There is an hour when angels keep 
 Familiar watch o'er men, 
 
 When coarser souls arc wrapt in sleep- 
 Sweet spirit, meet me then. 
 
 There is an hour when holy dreams 
 Through slumber fairest glide, 
 
 And in that mystic hour it seems 
 Thou shouldst be by my side. 
 
 isi 
 
K 
 
 150 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 The thoughts of thee too sacred are 
 
 For daylight's common beam ; 
 I can but know thee as my star, 
 
 My angel, and my dream ! 
 When stars are in the quiet skies, 
 
 Then most I pine tor thee ; 
 Bend on me then thy tender eyes, 
 
 As stars look on the sea. 
 
 Love at First Sight. 
 
 NTO my heart a silent look 
 Flashed from thy careless eyes. 
 
 And what before was shadow, took 
 The light of summer skies. 
 
 The first-born love was in that look 
 
 The Venus rose from out the deep 
 Of those inspiring eyes. 
 
 My life, like some lone solemn spot 
 
 A spirit passes o'er, 
 Grew instinct with a glory not 
 
 In earth or heaven before. 
 
 41 
 
SIR EDWARD B ULW E R- L Y T T X. 251 
 
 Sweet trouble stirred the haunted spot, 
 And shook the leaves of every thought 
 Thy presence wandered o'er ! 
 
 My being yearned, and crept to thine, 
 
 As if in times of yore 
 Thy soul had been a part of mine. 
 
 Which claimed it back once more. 
 Thy very self no longer thine. 
 But merged in that delicious life. 
 
 Which made us one of yore ! 
 
 There bloomed beside thee forms as fair. 
 
 There murmured tones as sweet, 
 But round thee breathed the enchanted air 
 
 'Twas life and death to meet. 
 And henceforth thou alone wert fair, 
 And though the stars had sung for joy, 
 
 Thy whisper only sweet ! 
 
 c5p L?S ^^KJ eg 
 
 'o) 
 
 ^'^. h^^ 
 
^A 
 
 1 5 ). BOOK OF K U B IKS. 
 
 €l)avlc!3 i^cuuo t)ciffman. 
 
 [Born j8o6.] 
 To AN AlTTUMN ROSK. 
 
 \VAAj licr I love her — love her tor those eyes 
 
 iuliant now with mirth 
 
 I 
 
 I \ Which, like a lake reflectinti; autumn skies, 
 Reveal two heavens here to us on Larth — 
 The one in whieh their soulful beauty lies, 
 And that wherein such soulfulness has birth :. 
 Go to mv ladv ere the season flies, 
 And the rude winter comes thy bKK)m to blast — 
 (70 ! and with all of eloquence thou hast, 
 The burning storv of mv love discover. 
 Anil if the theme sluiuld fail, alas ! to mo\e her. 
 Tell her, wlien vouth's gay budding-time is past. 
 And sunuiier's gaudv flowering is o\ er, 
 Like thee, mv lo\ e will blossom to the last ! 
 
 ■'>:^^?^:#?' 
 
 1 1^ 
 
V J I A li L K H FJ'J NNO II U FFM A N. 
 
 253 
 
 Thy N a m k. 
 
 T comes to me when healths go round, 
 
 And o'er the wine their garlands wreathing 
 
 The flowers of wit, with music wound. 
 Are freshly from the goblet breathing •, 
 
 From sparkling song and sally gay 
 
 It comes to steal my heart away, 
 
 And fill my soul, mid festal glee. 
 
 With sad, sweet, silent thoughts of thee. 
 
 It comes to me upon the mart. 
 
 Where care in jostling crowds is rife ; 
 Where Avarice goads the sordid heart. 
 
 Or cold Ambition prompts the strife; 
 It comes to whisper, if I'm there, 
 'Tis but with thee each prize to share. 
 For Fame were not success to me, 
 Nor riches wealth unshared with thee. 
 
 k 
 
 It comes to me when smiles are bright 
 
 On gentle lips that murmur round me. 
 And kindling glances flash delight 
 
 In eyes whose spell would once have bound 
 me. 
 22 
 
 ^A 
 
IS? 
 
 254 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 It comes — but comes to bring alone 
 Remembrance of some look or tone, 
 Dearer than aught I hear or see, 
 Because 'twas born or breathed by tliee. 
 
 It comes to me where cloistered boughs 
 
 Their shadows cast upon the sod ; 
 Awhile in Nature's fane my vows 
 
 Arc lifted from her slirine to God j 
 It comes to tell that all of worth 
 I dream in heaven or know on earth, 
 However bright or dear it be, 
 Is blended with mv thou2;ht of thee. 
 
 A^^ % 
 
CHARLES FENNO HOFFMAN. 255 
 
 " I WILL LOVK HKR NO MORK." 
 
 ^oiP WILL love her no more — 'tis a waste of 
 ^!8^^ the heart, 
 
 This lavish of feeling — a prodigal's part : 
 \^J Who, heedless the treasure a life could not 
 earn. 
 Squanders forth where he vainly may look for return. 
 
 I will love her no more ; it is folly to give 
 Our best years to one, when for many we live. 
 And he who the world will thus barter for one, 
 I ween by such traffic must soon be undone. 
 
 I will love her no more ; it is heathenish thus 
 
 To bow to an idol which bends not to us ; 
 
 Which heeds not, which hears not, which recks not for 
 
 aught 
 That the worship of years to Its altar hath brought. 
 
 I will love her no more ; for no love is without 
 Its limit in measure, and mine hath run out ; 
 She engrosseth it all, and, till some she restore, 
 Than this moment I love her, how can I love more? 
 
 if- 
 
 A 
 
*/r- 
 
 iSf) 
 
 iiOiiK OF A' r ni KH 
 
 \/» A^ Till': I''aki:vvi:i.i., 
 
 UK conlliit is DViT, tin- stnigi^K- is past, 
 1 l\a\c lookt'il I lia\ I' Kn iil I have 
 
 woisliippcil my last, 
 Aiul iu)vv back to tlu- uoiKl, aiul U-t 
 
 l'"atC llo luT WDISt 
 
 On tlu- luMit that tor tluc sikIi iU'\()tii>ii liath iuhschI : 
 l"o tliri" its lu'st ti'c-liiiL;s wiTi- tnistcil a\va\ , 
 Ami life hath luTratUT not om- lo lu'tray. 
 
 "\'i-t not ill n-si'Mtnu'iit th\ \o\ c I icsign ; 
 1 hlanu" not — iiphraii,! not - oiu- niotixt- ot thine ; 
 I ask not what change has conu- o\ (.-r th\ heart, 
 I reck not what chances ha\ e iloonicil us to part ; 
 I hut know thou hast toKl me to lo\ i- thee no more, 
 Ami I still must obey vvheie I once did aiKne. 
 
 I'arevvcll, then, thou loved one— -O ' lo\ eil but too well. 
 Too ileepU , tOi> bliiulK , tor language to ti-U 
 l'"aif\vc-ll ' tiuni hast trampK-il lo\ i-'s taith in the Just, 
 Ihou hast torn lron\ in\ bosom its hope anil its trust ! 
 ^■l•t, it"th\ life's cuireiU with bliss it wouKI swell, 
 I W(>uKl pour out mv own in this last toml tarewell ! 
 
J A M /<; ,S' () TIS R o K W !■: L L . 
 
 257 
 
 3amc5 (Otis llockiucll. 
 
 [Bo«N 1807. Died 1831. J 
 
 To Ann. 
 
 HOU vvcit as a lake that licth 
 
 111 a bright and siimiy way ; 
 1 was as a bird tliat flieth 
 
 O'c-r it on a pleasant day ; 
 Whi-n 1 looked upon thy features, 
 
 Presence then some feeling lent ; 
 But thou knowest, most false of creatures 
 
 With thy form thy image went. 
 
 With a kiss my vow was greeted, 
 
 As 1 knelt before thy shrine; 
 But I saw that kiss repeated 
 
 On another lip than mine ; 
 And a solemn vow was sjioken 
 
 That thy heart should not be changed : 
 But that binding vow was broken, 
 
 And thy spirit was estranged. 
 
K 
 
 25S 
 
 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 TSf 
 
 I could blame thee for awaking 
 
 Thoughts the world will but deride ; 
 Calling out, and then forsaking 
 
 flowers the winter wind will chide ; 
 Guiling to the midway ocean 
 
 Barks that tremble by the shore ; 
 But I hush the sad emotion, 
 
 And will punish thee no more. 
 
 ■U^ 
 
 ^■^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 J% 
 
NATII AMKL 1' A R K K R WILLIS. 
 
 7X? 
 
 259 
 
 Jfatljauicl jpavkcv lUillis, 
 
 [BOBN 1S07.I 
 
 The a n n o y i: r . 
 
 ^ OVE knoweth every form of air, 
 And every shape of earth, 
 And comes, unbidden, everywhere, 
 
 Like thought's mysterious birth. 
 The moonlit sea and the sunset sky 
 
 Are written with Love's words. 
 
 And you hear his voice unceasingly, 
 
 Like song, in the time of birds. 
 
 k. 
 
 He peeps into the warrior's heart 
 
 From the tip of a stooping plume. 
 And the serried spears, and the many men, 
 
 May not deny him room. 
 He'll come to his tent in the weary night, 
 
 And be busy in his dream. 
 And he'll float to his eye in morning light, 
 
 Like a fay on a silver beam. 
 
 :^.x 
 
% 
 
 260 7? K F RUBl E S. 
 
 He hears the sound of the hunter's gun, 
 
 And rides on the echo back, 
 And sighs in his eaf Hke a stirring leaf, 
 
 And flits in his woodland track. 
 The shade of the wood, and the sheen of the river, 
 
 The cloud, and the open sky, — 
 He will haunt them all with his subtle quiver. 
 
 Like the light of your very eye. 
 
 The fisher hangs over the leaning boat, 
 
 And ponders the silver sea. 
 For Love is under the surface hid, 
 
 And a spell of thought has he ; 
 He heaves the wave like a bosom sweet. 
 
 And speaks in the ripple low. 
 Till the bait is gone from the crafty line, 
 
 And the hook hangs bare below. 
 
 He blurs the print of the scholar's book. 
 
 And intrudes in the maiden's prayer. 
 And profanes the cell of the holy man 
 
 In the shape of a lady fair. 
 In the darkest night, and the bright daylight, 
 
 In earth, and sea, and sky, 
 In every home of human thought 
 
 Will Love be lurkiii"; nigh. 
 
%■ 
 
 NA Til A X J /•; /. I'A // A' /; /.' 
 
 ILLIS. 
 
 2b I 
 
 To ErM ENG ARDE. 
 
 KNOW not if the sunshine waste, 
 
 The world is ciark since thou art gone ! 
 The hours are, O ! so leaden-paced ! 
 
 The birds sing, and the stars Hoat on, 
 But sing not well, and look not fair ; 
 A weight is in the summer air. 
 
 And sadness in the sight of flowers ; 
 And if I go where others smile, 
 
 Their love but makes me think of ours. 
 And Heaven gets my heart the while. 
 Like one upon a desert isle, 
 
 I languish of the dreary hours; 
 I never thought a life could be 
 So flung upon one hope, as mine, dear love, on thee ! 
 
 1 sit and watch the summer sky : 
 
 There comes a cloud through heaven alone 
 A thousand stars are shining nigh. 
 
 It feels no light, but darkles on ! 
 Yet now it nears the lovelier moon. 
 
 And, flashing through its fringe of snow. 
 There steals a rosier dye, and soon 
 
 Its bosom is one fiery glow ! 
 
% 5^ 
 
 202 ]!00K OF RUBIES. 
 
 The cjuccn i)t" lite within it lies, 
 
 Yet mark how k)vers meet to part : 
 The eloiul already oiiwaid flies, 
 
 And shadows sink into its heart -, 
 And (dost thou see them where thou art ?) 
 
 Fade fast, fade all those glorious dyes ! 
 Its light, like mine, is seen no more, 
 And, like my own, its heart seems darker than before. 
 
 Where press, this hour, those fairy feet ? 
 
 Where look, this hour, those eyes of blue ? 
 What music in thine ear is sweet ? 
 
 What odoin- breathes thy lattice through ? 
 What word is on thy lip ? What tone, 
 What K)ok, reph ing to thine own ? 
 IMiy steps along the Daiuibe stray, 
 
 Alas, it seeks an orient sea ! 
 Thou wouldst not seem so tar awav, 
 
 Flowed but its waters back to me ! 
 I bless the slowU -ciMning moon, 
 
 Because its eye looked late in thine ; 
 I envv the west wind of June, 
 
 Whose wings will bear it up the Rhine ; 
 The flower I press upon my brow 
 Were sweeter if its like perfumed thy chamber now ! 
 
 L 
 
 M 
 
^ 
 
 N A T II A N I A' /. / M /,• A' i: U I V I LLI ,S'. 
 
 263 
 
 jV Tiiii Con F i.;,s,si()N A I.. 
 
 t^THOUGHToftl.cx-l ilu.ught of ilK-c 
 'I'^WW* ^^" *"''■"'"' '"'"ly 'I weary night, 
 ".i^ VVlicii heaved the long and sullen sea, 
 4.1 With only waves and stars in sight. 
 
 We stole along by isles of halm, 
 
 We fmled before the coming gale, 
 We slept amid the breathless calm, 
 
 We (lew bcnealli the straining sail, — 
 l>iit thou vverl lost for years to me, 
 And day and night i thought of thee ! 
 
 1 thought of thee ^I thought of thee 
 
 In J'^ance, amid the gay saloon, 
 Where eyes as dark as eyes may be 
 
 Are many as the leaves in June: 
 Where life is love, and e'en the air 
 
 Is pregnant with impassioned thought, 
 And song, and dance, and music are 
 
 With one warm meaning only fraught, 
 My half-snared heart broke lightly free. 
 And, with a i)lush, 1 thotight of thee ! 
 
 1 thought of thee — [ thought of thee 
 III I'dorence, where the fiery hearts 
 
 ^A 
 
?? 
 
 264 no OK F h' u n I E s. 
 
 Ot IiaU are breathed away 
 
 111 wiiiulers of the deathless arts ; 
 
 Wliere strays tlie CmUadiiia, down 
 Val d'Ariio, with the song of old ; 
 
 Where clime and women seldom frown, 
 And life runs tner sands of gold ; 
 
 I strayed to lonely Fiesole, 
 
 On many an eve, and thought of thee. 
 
 I thought of thee — I thought of thee 
 
 In Rome, when, on the Palatine, 
 Night left the C\esar's palace free 
 
 To Time's t'orgctful foot and mine; 
 Or, on the C'olisinim's wall, 
 
 \V hen mooidiLiht ti>uched the i\ ied stone. 
 Reclining, with a thought of all 
 
 That o'er this scene hath ci>mc and gone. 
 Tile shades of Ri>me would start and tlee 
 Unconsciously — I thought of thee. 
 
 I thought of thee — I thought of thee 
 In \'allomhrosa's holy shade, 
 
 \\'here nobles born the tViars be, 
 
 By life's rude changes humbler made. 
 
 Here M 11. ton framed his Paradise ; 
 I slept within his yer\ cell \ 
 
 aS- 
 
r 
 
 
 
 
 NA Til A N 1 Ml, I' A i; K 
 
 K li WILLIS. 
 
 
 And, ;is 1 ( loscd my wca 
 
 ry cyrs, 
 
 
 1 I lioiijjlit 1 he cowl w< 
 
 iild 111 inc well •, 
 
 
 The cloisters hi (miIiccI, i 
 
 sccincd to iiic, 
 
 
 Of licart's-c-asc— hut I t 
 
 H)iij;lit ol ihcc. 
 
 I thoMi'jit of" thee I ihoiiMJit of thee 
 
 111 Venice, on a night in June ; 
 When, through the city of the sea, 
 
 I/ike dust of silver, sle|)l the moon. 
 Slow tuiiicd his oar the gondolier. 
 
 And, as the hlack l.ai ks glided hy, 
 The water, to my leaning ear, 
 
 Hore hack the lover's passing sigh ; 
 It was no place alone to he, 
 I thought of thee- I thought of thee. 
 
 I thought of thee ^ I thought olthcc 
 
 In the Ionian isles, when straying 
 With wise Ul.vssiis hy tlie sea, 
 
 ()ld IIoivikk's songs around me piayiii^ 
 Or, watching the hewitched caicpie, 
 
 That o'er the star-lit waters flew, 
 I listened to the helmsman (ireek. 
 
 Who sung the song that SAi'i'ito knew 
 The poet's sjxdl, the hark, the sea. 
 
 K 
 
 J 
 
?5— 
 
 266 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 I thought of thee — I thought of thee 
 
 In Greece, when rose the Parthenon 
 Majestic o'er the i^gean sea, 
 
 And heroes with it, one by one ; 
 When, in the grove of Academe, 
 
 Where LaIs and Leontium strayed 
 Discussing Plato's mystic theme, 
 
 I lay at noontide in the shade — 
 The T^gean wind, the whispering tree 
 Had voices — and I thought of thee. 
 
 I thought of thee — I thought of thee 
 
 In Asia, on the Dardanelles, 
 Where, swiftly as the waters flee. 
 
 Each wave some sweet old story tells ; 
 And, seated by the marble tank 
 
 Which sleeps by Ilium's ruins old 
 (The fount where peerless Helen drank, 
 
 And Venus laved her locks of gold), 
 I thrilled such classic haunts to see, 
 Yet even here I thought of thee. 
 
 1 thought of thee — I thought of thee 
 
 Where glide the Bosphor's lovely waters. 
 
 All palace-lined from sea to sea : 
 
 And ever on its shores the daughters 
 
NATHANIEL P A It K K R WILLIH. 267 
 
 Of the delicious East are seen, 
 
 Printing the brink with slipperfcd feet, 
 
 And, O, the snowy folds between. 
 
 What eyes of heaven your glances meet ! 
 
 Peris of light no fairer be, 
 
 Yet, in Stamboul, I thought of thee. 
 
 I've thought of thee— Pvc thought of thee, 
 
 Through change that teaches to forget ; 
 Thy face looks up from every sea, 
 
 In every star thine eyes are set. 
 Though roving beneath orient skies. 
 
 Whose golden beauty breathes of rest, 
 I envy every bird that flies 
 
 Into the far and clouded West ; 
 1 think of thee— I think of thee ! 
 (), dearest ! hast thou thought of me ? 
 
 ti 
 
 f"^ 
 
 ii!^ % 
 
>6X BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 (Emma €. aJmbuvg. 
 
 [Born 1807.] 
 
 Absence. 
 
 ^OME to me, love -, forget each sordid duty 
 That chains thy footsteps to the crowded 
 mart ; 
 Come, look with me upon earth's summer 
 beauty. 
 
 And let its influence cheer thy weary heart. 
 Come to me, love ! 
 
 Come to me, love ; the voice of song is swelling 
 From Nature's harp in every varied tone, 
 
 And manv a voice of bird and bee is telling 
 A tale of joy amid the forests lone. 
 Come to me, love ! 
 
 Come to me, love ! my heart can never doubt thee. 
 Yet for thy sweet companionship I pine ; 
 
 Oh, never more can joy be joy without thee, 
 My pleasures, even as my life, are thine. 
 Come to me, love ! 
 
Ve 
 
 HENHY WADSWORTU LONGFELLOW 2bc) 
 
 i^cnri) lUabswortl) Cougfcllou). 
 
 [Born 1807.] 
 
 End YMION. 
 
 HE rising moon has hid the stars ; 
 
 Her level rays, like golden bars, 
 Lie on the landscape green, 
 With shadows brown between. 
 
 And silver white the river gleams. 
 As if Diana, in her dreams, 
 Had dropped her silver bow 
 Upon the meadows low. 
 
 On such a tranquil night as this, 
 
 She woke Endymion with a kiss. 
 
 When, sleeping in the grove, 
 
 He dreamed not of her love. 
 
 ii 
 
 Like Dian's kiss, unasked, unsought. 
 Love gives itself, but is not bought ; 
 Nor voice, nor sound betravs 
 Its deep, impassioned gaze. 
 
 ^3* 
 
 isi 
 
W 3J? 
 
 270 BOOK OF JiUni£S. 
 
 It comes — the beautitul, the free, 
 ,The crown of all humanity — ■ 
 In sik-iice and aUuic 
 To sock the elected one. 
 
 It lifts the bows, whose shadows deep 
 Are Life's oblivion, the soul's sleep. 
 
 And kisses the closed e\es 
 
 Ot him, who slumbering lies. 
 
 O, weary hearts ! C), slumbering eyes ! 
 O, drooping souls, whose destinies 
 
 Aic tVaught with fear and iniin, 
 
 Ye shall be loved again ! 
 
 No one is so accursed by fate. 
 No one so utterly desolate, 
 
 Init some heart, though unknown, 
 
 Responds unto its own. 
 
 Responds — as if, with unseen wings, 
 A breath from hea\en had touched its strings 
 And whispers, in its song, 
 ^••W'lu're liast thou sia\cd so long?" 
 
 ^^fl- 
 
 ^ 
 
Vir 
 
 JOHN (J n K K N L K A F W II I T T I K U 
 
 271 
 
 3ol)n (Sreculcaf lUljitticr, 
 
 [Born 1808.] 
 
 My 1^ /, a V M A'IH. 
 
 ' UK pines were chiik on Ramolh hill, 
 Their song was soft and low ; 
 The bloss(Miis in the sweet May wind 
 Were falling like the snow. 
 
 The blossoms drifted at our feet, 
 The orchard birds sang clear ; 
 
 The sweetest and the saddest day 
 It seemed of all the year. 
 
 For, more to me than birds or flowers, 
 My playmate left her home, 
 
 And took with her the laughing spring, 
 The music and the bloom. 
 
 She kissed the lips of kith and kin, 
 
 She laid her hand in mine : 
 What more could ask the bashful boy 
 
 That k-A her father's kine ? 
 
 isi 
 
Ve 
 
 n 0() K OF AT/.'/ l-:S. 
 
 She left us in the bloom of Mav : 
 The constant years told o'er 
 
 Their seasons with as sweet Ma\- inoins, 
 Hut she eaine baek no more. 
 
 I walk, with noiseless teet, the round 
 
 Ot" iine\ enttul n ears ; 
 Still o'er and o'er 1 sow the spring 
 
 And reap the autumn ears. 
 
 She li\es where all the golden Near 
 
 Her summer roses Mow, 
 
 The dusk\ ehildren of the sun 
 
 Hetore her eome and go. 
 
 Theie h.ipK with her jewelled hand 
 She smooths her silken i:;own, — 
 
 No more the homespun lap wherein 
 1 shook the walnuts down. 
 
 The \\ dvl graju's wait us bv the brook, 
 
 The brown nuts on the hill. 
 And still the M.i\ -da\- Bowers n\ake sweet 
 The woods of l'"oll\ mill. 
 
 The lilies blossom in the pond, 
 
 The bird builds in the tree. 
 The dark pines sing on Ramoth hill 
 The slow soiiii otthe sea. 
 
 7»? 
 
K 
 
 JOHN GRKENLKAF WIIITr/ER. 273 
 
 I wonder if slic thinks of them, 
 
 And how the old time seems, — 
 If ever the pines of Ramoth wood 
 
 Are souniling in her dreams. 
 
 I sec her face, I hear lier voice ; 
 
 Does she remember mine ? 
 And what to her is now the boy 
 
 That fed her father's kine ? 
 
 What cares she tliat the orioles build 
 
 Kor other eyes than ours,— 
 That other hands with nuts are filled, 
 
 And other laps with flowers ? 
 
 C) playmate in the golden time ! 
 
 Our mossy seat is green, 
 Its fringing violets blossom yet, 
 
 The old trees o'er it lean. 
 
 The winds so sweet with birch and fern 
 
 A sweeter memory blow ; 
 And there in spring the veeries sing 
 
 The song of long ago. 
 
 And still the pines of Ramoth wood 
 
 Are moaning like the sea, — 
 The moaning of the sea of change 
 
 between myself and thee. 
 
K 
 
 ^7+ 
 
 BOOK OF KUUIES. 
 
 vCavoliuc Novtou. 
 
 [Born iSoS.J 
 
 L o V K Not. 
 
 ^lyL^^ OVE not, lo\c not, vc hapless sons ot' cl.i\ ; 
 fWj ~ Hope's g;u est wreatlis arc iiuulo of carthU 
 
 1^ |r> flowers— 
 
 •^^^^-^^ Tilings that are made to fade and fall a\\a\ , 
 
 When thev have bU>ssonied but a few shoit 
 hours. 
 Lo\ e not, love not. 
 
 Lo\ e not, Io\ e not : the thino; you lo\ e niav die — 
 Ma\ perish from the ga\ and gladsome earth ; 
 
 The silent stars, the blue and smiling skv, 
 Beam on its gra\e as once upon its birth. 
 Lo\ e not, lo\ e not. 
 
 l.o\e not, lo\e niit : the thing \ou lo\ e m:\\ ehaii^r. 
 The ros\ lip mav cease to smile on vou ; 
 
 The kindh beaming eve grow cold and strange. 
 The heart still w.unilv beat, \et not be true. 
 Lo\ e not, lo\e not. 
 
CA no LINE NOUTON. 
 
 ^75 
 
 Love not, love not : oh ! warning vainly said, 
 In present years, as in the years gone by ; 
 
 jyove flings a halo round the dear one's head ; 
 l''aiiltless, inunoital—till ihey change or die. 
 Love not, love not. 
 
276 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 /rcbcviiii lU. vE^I)omaG 
 
 [Born 1808.J 
 
 ^ 
 
 Song. 
 
 1 (^/T^IS said that absence conquers love ! 
 But O ! believe it not ; 
 I've tried, alas ! its power to prove, 
 
 But thou art not forgot. 
 Lady, though tatc has bid us part. 
 
 Yet still thou art as dear. 
 As fixed in this devoted heart. 
 As when I clasped thee here. 
 
 I plunge into the busv crowd. 
 
 And smile to hear thy name ; 
 And yet, as if I thought aloud. 
 
 They know me still the same. 
 And when the wine-cup passes round, 
 
 I toast some other fair, — 
 But when I ask mv heart the sound. 
 
 Thy name is echoed there. 
 
 3i 
 
FREDERICK W. THOMAS 
 
 And when some other name I learn, 
 
 And try to whisper love, 
 Still will my heart to thee return, 
 
 Like the returning dove. 
 In vain ! I never can torget. 
 
 And would not be forgot ; 
 For I must bear the same regret, 
 
 Whate'er may be my lot. 
 
 E'en as the wounded bird will seek 
 
 Its favorite bower to die, 
 So, lady, I would hear thee speak. 
 
 And yield my parting sigh. 
 *Tis said that absence conquers love ! 
 
 But, O ! believe it not ; 
 I've tried, alas ! its power to prove, 
 
 But thou art not forgot. 
 
 
 24 
 
278 
 
 BOOK OF lU'JiJFS. 
 
 ©liucr lUcnJicll t)olmc5. 
 
 [Born 1S09.] 
 
 ir^%%\'VW Stanzas. 
 
 HiXj TRANGE ! that one lightly-whispered tone 
 Is tar, far sweeter unto me, 
 Than all the sounds that kiss the earth, 
 
 ^^~ Or breathe along the sea ; 
 
 But, hulv, when thy voiee I greet, 
 Not heavenly musie seems so sweet. 
 
 I look upon the fair, blue skies, 
 And naught but empty air I see ; 
 
 But when I turn me to thine eves. 
 It seemeth unto me 
 
 Ten thousand angels spread their wings 
 
 Within those little azure rinLTS. 
 
 The lily hath the softest leaf 
 
 That ever western breeze hath fanned. 
 But thou shalt have the tender flower, 
 
 So I may take th\ hand ; 
 
OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 
 
 That little hand to me doth yield 
 More joy than all the hroidcred field. 
 
 O, lady ! there be many things 
 
 That seem right fair, below, above 
 
 But sure not one among them all 
 Is half so sweet as love ; — 
 
 Let us not pay our vows alone, 
 
 But join two altars both in one. 
 
 279 
 
 y?fcy 
 
 k. 
 
iSo 
 
 ji()<>K or h' I'm us. 
 
 ^nnc JPcnvc IDiuuice 
 
 [Horn iSio] 
 
 \\ 1 I) P K \) I ,0 \ K. 
 
 (")M1% lousc tlu-c, di-.uost ! -'lis not well 
 Vo K'l ihr spirit broiul 
 
 riuis daikU i^'ci ilu- (.-.ui's tli.it swell 
 
 Lite's rum-iit to .1 tUnul. 
 As Inooks, .uul torn-iits, ri\ its, ail 
 Iiuhmsi- tlu' iMilt' in which thev tall, 
 SiK-h thoughts, h\ liatluMing up the rills 
 Ot" K-sscr oriels, spre.ul rc.il ills. 
 Ami with their glooiuv shades coneeal 
 
 I'lie lainlinatks Hope woiiUl else reveal. 
 
 (.\iine, rouse thee, now I know tin mind. 
 And would its sden^th awaken ; 
 
 Tiouvl, i:,irievl, iioMe, ardent, kind, — 
 
 Siian>xe thou sliouKlst be tinis shaken ! 
 
 Uut ivuise atVesh eaeli eneigv. 
 
 And In- what Heaven inleiuled thee; 
 
 ^x 
 
s 
 
 A NN K r K Y li K J) INN I K S. 'iH I 
 
 Throw from tliy tli<)ii[i;lus this wearying weight, 
 And prove thy spirit firmly great : 
 I would not see thee hend heh)W 
 The angry st(;rms of earthly woe. 
 
 Full well I know the generous soul 
 
 Whieh warms thcc into life, 
 Kach spring which can its powers control, 
 
 Familiar to thy wife, — 
 For deem'st thou she had stooped to hind 
 Her fate unto a common tnindF 
 The eagle-like ambition, nursed 
 From childhood in her heart, had first 
 C-onsumed, with its Promethean flame, 
 The shrine — then sunk her soul to shame. 
 
 'Fhen rouse thee, dearest, from the dieam 
 
 'Fhat fetters now thy powers : 
 Shake off this gloom — Hope sheds a beam 
 
 'Fo gild each eloud which lowers ; 
 And though at present seems so far 
 The wished-for goal — a guiding star, 
 With peaceful ray, would light thee on. 
 Until its utmost hounds he won : 
 'Fhat (|uenchless ray thou'lt ever prove 
 In fond, undying ll'rddcd Love, 
 
 ^ 
 
K 
 
 282 
 
 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 1^ 
 
 ^Ifrcb ©cnniison, 
 
 [Born 1810.] 
 
 ' Ask me no more." 
 
 SK me no more : the moon may draw the sea ; 
 The cloud may stoop from heaven and 
 
 take the shape, 
 With fold to fold, of mountain or of cape ; 
 But, O too fond ! when have I answered 
 thee ? 
 Ask nic no more. 
 
 Ask me no more : what answer should I give ? 
 
 I love not hollow cheek or faded eye ; 
 
 Yet, O my friend, I vv'ould not have thee die ! 
 Ask me no more, lest I should bid thee live ; 
 Ask me no more. 
 
 Ask me no more : thv fiite and mine arc scaled ; 
 I strove against the stream, and all in vain. 
 Let the trreat river take me to the main. 
 
 No more, dear love — for at a touch I yield ; 
 Ask me no more. 
 
 i& 
 
 -% 
 
f^ 
 
 EDGAR ALLAN POE. 
 [Born i8ii. Dieu 1849.] 
 
 To 
 
 fewA,^ SAW thee once — once only — years ago : 
 ^-'■/^ I must not say how many — but not manw 
 7^ It was a July midnight \ and from out 
 ^^ A full-orbed moon that, like thine own sou 
 ^ soarnig, 
 
 Sought a precipitant pathway up through heaven, 
 There fell a silvery-silken veil of light. 
 With quietude, and sultriness, and slumber, 
 Upon the upturned faces of a thousand 
 Roses that grew in an enchanted garden. 
 Where no wind dared to stir, unless on tiptoe — 
 Fell on the upturned faces of these roses 
 That gave out, in return for the love-light, 
 Their odorous souls in an ecstatic death — 
 Fell on the upturned faces of these roses 
 That smiled and died in this parterre, enchanted 
 By thee, and by the poetrv of thy presence. 
 
VK 
 
 284 BOOK OF nrnjES. 
 
 Clad all in white, upon a violet bank 
 I saw thee half reclining •, while the moon 
 Fell on the upturned faces of the roses, 
 And on thine own, upturned — alas ! in sorrow. 
 
 Was it not Fate that, on this July midnight — 
 Was it not Fate (whose name is also Sorrow) 
 That bade me pause before that garden-gate 
 To breathe the incense of those slumbering roses ? 
 No footstep stirred : the hated world all slept, 
 Save only thee and me. I paused — I looked — 
 And in an instant all things disappeared. 
 (Ah, bear in mind, this garden was enchanted !) 
 The pearly lustre of the moon went out : 
 The mossy banks and the meandering paths. 
 The happy flowers and the repining trees. 
 Were seen no more : the very roses' odours 
 Died in the arms of the adoring airs. 
 All, all expired sa\ e thee — save less than thou : 
 Save only the divine light in thine eves — 
 Save but the soul in thine uplifted eyes. 
 I saw but them — they were the world to me. 
 I saw but them — saw only them for hours — 
 Saw only them until the moon went down. 
 What wild heart-histories seemed to lie enwritten 
 Upon those crystalline celestial spheres ! 
 
 .Vs 
 
-3? 
 
 EDGAR ALLAN I'OE. 285 
 
 How dark a woe, yet how sublime a hope ! 
 How silently serene a sea of pride ! 
 How daring an ambition ! yet how deep — 
 How fathomless a capacity for love ! 
 
 ]jut now, at length, dear Dian sank from sight 
 Into a western couch of thunder-cloud. 
 And thou, a ghost, amid the entombing trees 
 Didst glide away. Only thine eyes remained. 
 They would not go — they never yet have gone. 
 Lighting my lonely pathway home that night. 
 They have not left me (as my hopes have) since. 
 They follow me, they lead me through the years ; 
 Thev are my ministers — yet I their slave. 
 Their office is to illumine and enkindle— 
 My duty, to be saved by their bright light. 
 And purified in their electric fire — 
 And sanctified in their Elysian fire. 
 They fill my soul with beauty (which is hopcj. 
 And are far up in heaven, the stars I kneel to 
 \n the sad, silent watches of my night ; 
 While even in the meridian glare of day 
 I see them still — two sweetly scintillant 
 Venuses, unextinguished by the sun ! 
 
% 
 
 286 BOOK OF EUBIES. 
 
 jTvanccsi Sargent ©sgocie, 
 
 [Born 1812. Died 1850.] 
 
 Song. 
 LOVED an ideal — I sous-ht It in thee 
 
 f 
 
 V" I found it unreal as stars in the sea. 
 
 ^^ And shall I, disdaining an instinct divine — 
 By falsehood profaning that pure hope of mine — ■ 
 
 Shall I stoop from my vision so lofty — so true — 
 From the light all Elysian that round me it threw I 
 
 Oh ! guilt unforgivcn, if false I could be 
 
 To myself and to Heaven, while constant to thee ' 
 
 Ah no ! though all lonely on earth be my lot, 
 I'll brave it, if only that trust fail me not — 
 
 The trust that, in keeping all pure from control 
 The love that lies sleeping and dreams in my soul, 
 
 It may wake in some better and holier sphere. 
 Unbound bv the fetter Fate hung on it here ! 
 
 3i 
 
WILLIAM U. BURLEiaU. 
 
 287 
 
 ItJilliam C). Bitrlcigl) 
 
 [BoKN 1812.] 
 
 1 
 
 SoN( 
 
 ^ 'KLIEVE not the slander, my dearest Katrine ! 
 For the ice of the world hath not frozen my 
 heart ; 
 In my innermost spirit there still is a shrine 
 Where thou art remembered, all pure as 
 thou art : 
 The dark tide of years, as it bears us along, 
 
 'I'hough it sweep away hope in its turbulent flow, 
 Canncjt drown the low voice of Love's elocjuent song. 
 Nor chill with its waters my faith's early glow. 
 
 Tr 
 
 the world hath its snares, and the soul may grow 
 
 .^ 
 
 In its strifes with the follies and falsehoods of earth ; 
 And amidst the dark whirl of corruption, a taint 
 
 May poison the thoughts that are purest at birth. 
 Temptations and trials, without and within, 
 
 From the pathway of virtue the spirit may lure ; 
 
 ^A 
 
%- 
 
 288 
 
 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 But the soul shall grow strong in its triumphs o'er sin, 
 And the heart shall preserve its integrity pure. 
 
 The linger of Love, on my innermost heart. 
 
 Wrote thy name, O adored ! when my feelings were 
 young i 
 And the record shall 'bide till my soul shall depart, 
 
 And the darkness of death o'er my being be flung. 
 Then believe not the slander that says I forget. 
 
 In the whirl of excitement, the love that was thine ; 
 Thou wcrt dear in mv bovhood, art dear to me yet : 
 
 For my sunlight of life is the smile of Katrine ' 
 
 c^c^^^*; 
 
 ie. 
 
 M 
 
Til DMAS DA VIS. 28g 
 
 [Born 1814. Dud 1845.] 
 
 Thk Welcome. 
 
 OME in the evening, or come in the morning, 
 
 tCome when you're looked for, or come without 
 warning. 
 Kisses and welcome you'll find here before you. 
 And the oftener you come here the more I'll adore you. 
 IJght is my heart since the day we were plighted, 
 Red is my cheek that they told me was blighted •, 
 The green of the trees looks far greener than ever, 
 And the linnets are singing, "True lovers! don't 
 sever !" 
 
 I'll pull you sweet flowers, to wear if you choose them ; 
 Or, after you've kissed them, they'll lie on my bosom. 
 I'll fetch from the mountain its breeze to inspire you ; 
 I'll fetch from my fancy a tale that won't tire you. 
 Oh ! your step's like the rain to the summer-vexed 
 
 farmer. 
 Or sabre and shield to a knight without armour. 
 25 
 
 ^A 
 
;-. 
 
 290 BOOK OF RUBIES 
 
 I'll sing you sweet songs till the stars rise above me, 
 Then, wondering, I'll wish you, in silence, to love me. 
 
 We'll look through the trees at the cliff and the eyry, 
 We'll tread round the rath on the track of the fairy. 
 We'll look on the stars, and we'll list to the river, 
 Till you ask of your darling what gift you can give her. 
 Oh! she'll whisper you, — "Love as unchangeably 
 
 beaming. 
 And trust, when in secret, most tunefully streaming. 
 Till the starlight of heaven above us shall quiver. 
 As our souls flow in one down eternity's river." 
 
 So come in the evening, or come in the morning. 
 Come when you're looked for, or come without warning. 
 Kisses and welcome you'll find here before you. 
 And the oftener you come here the more I'll adore you ! 
 Light is my heart since the day we were plighted. 
 Red is my cheek that they told me was blighted ■, 
 The green of the trees looks far greener than ever. 
 And the linnets are singing, " True lovers ! don't 
 sever I" 
 
 
 .*s. 
 
VST 
 
 JfENR V C L A r /', ./ UXI R. 
 
 291 
 
 l)cnnj €lapp, 3unicir, 
 
 [Born 1814,] 
 
 B L u K AND Gold. 
 
 Y the side of the broad blue sea 
 My blue-eyed maiden dwells, 
 And plays with the blue-lipped shells, 
 And hides in the rocky dells, 
 
 And rolls in the surf with me. 
 
 The morning with golden ray 
 Would gild her beauteous head ; 
 But my charming blue-eyed maid 
 Unloosens her golden braid. 
 
 And shames the proud light away. 
 
 The blue-bird tosses its head. 
 And the violet breathes a sigh 
 As my maiden passeth by ; 
 While to meet her dark-blue eve 
 
 The blue-bells are ever afraid. 
 
iq 1 B K F R UB I E S. 
 
 The goldHnch with her is bold. 
 And spying her radiant hair, 
 He hastens to nestle him there, 
 And, tuning his prettiest air, 
 
 Sings how gold ever seeketh gold. 
 
 The blue waves kiss her tect, 
 And sprinkle her marble brow, 
 And her blue eves bluer grow 
 Than the veins on her hand of snow, 
 
 Where the blue ri\ ers part and meet. 
 
 And niv maiden she sings to me, 
 As she basks in the golden sun, 
 O ! lay me when lite is done 
 AVherc his goldenest rays have shone, 
 
 Hv the side oi the broad blue sea ! 
 
A UBREY DE VERB. 
 
 293 
 
 QVubrcn ?Dc i)ere. 
 
 [Born 1814.] 
 
 Song. 
 
 'ENDING between me and the taper, 
 
 While o'er the harp her white hands strayed, 
 The shadows of her waving tresses 
 Above my hand were gently swayed. 
 
 With every graceful movement waving, 
 
 I marked their undulating swell ; 
 I watched them while they met and parted, 
 
 Curled close or widened, rose or fell. 
 
 I laughed in triumph and in pleasure. 
 
 So strange the sport, so undesigned ! 
 Her mother turned and asked me, gravely, 
 " What thought was passing through my 
 mind ?" 
 25* 
 
% 
 
 294 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 'Tis Love that blinds the eyes of mothers, 
 ' Tis Love that makes the young maids fair ! 
 
 She touched mv hand ; my rings she counted ; 
 Yet never felt the shadows there. 
 
 Keep, gamesome Love, beloved Infant, 
 Keep ever thus all Mothers blind ; 
 
 And make thy dedicated Virgins, 
 In substance as in shadow, kind ! 
 
 
 k tk 
 
— 7«^ 
 
 rilLLlP I'KNDLKTON COOKE. 295 
 
 jpi)ilip JpcuMctou Cooke. 
 
 [Born 18 16. Died J850.J 
 
 Florknck Vane. 
 
 LOVED thee long and dearly, 
 ^1 Florence Vane ; 
 
 My life's bright dream and early 
 
 Hath come again ; 
 I renew, in my fond vision. 
 
 My heart's dear pain, 
 My hopes, and thy derision, 
 
 Florence Vane. 
 
 The ruin, lone and hoary. 
 
 The ruin old 
 Where thou didst hark my story, 
 
 At even told, — 
 That spot — the hues Elysian 
 
 Of sky and plain — 
 I treasure in my vision, 
 
 Florence Vane. 
 
 :>i — itx 
 
Ve- 
 
 iqb JiOOK F 7." I'BI K S. 
 
 Thou wast lovelier than the roses 
 
 In their prime ; 
 Thv voice excelled the closes 
 
 Of sweetest rhyme ; 
 riiy heart was as a river 
 
 ^Vithout a main. 
 AWuiUl 1 had lined thee never, 
 
 Florence \'ane ! 
 
 l^ut, fairest, coldest, wonder ! 
 
 Thv glorious clay 
 Lieth the green sod under — 
 
 Alas, the dav ! 
 And it boots not to remember 
 
 riiv disdain — 
 To quicken love's pale ember, 
 
 Florence Wme. 
 
 The lilies of the valley 
 
 By young graves weep, 
 The daisies love to dally 
 
 A\'hcrc maidens sleep ; 
 May their bloom, in beautv vvinsj, 
 
 Never wane 
 ^^'here thine oarthlv part is King, 
 
 Florence Vane ! 
 
 L 
 
/■;/'A-.S' ,SM hU! KST. 
 
 29; 
 
 vfpc? Savgcnt. 
 
 [UoRN 1816.I 
 
 tr,^^^^ Till': l''iJ(;iiivK iKoM Lovi:. 
 S there l)iit a siiiji^lf tliciiu- 
 1' or till- yoiitliliil poet's dri-ani ? 
 Is tlu-re but a single wire 
 --^ 'I'o the youthful i)()ct's lyre ? 
 
 Karth below and heaven above — 
 Can he sin<: ol"nau|.'ht but \ovc^ 
 
 Nay ! the battle's ilusl 1 see ! 
 ( jod of war ! I follow ihee ! 
 And, in martial numbers, raise 
 Worthy |);rans to thy praise. 
 Ah ! she meets me on the field 
 If I lly not, I must yield. 
 
 Jolly patron of the grape ! 
 To thy arms I will escape ! 
 (^liek, the rosy nectar bring; 
 " lo lUccm;" I will sing. 
 
K 
 
 29S IK) OK OF KCniKS. 
 
 1 la ! C\>nhisi()ii ! r\ iMv sip 
 Hut rciiiiiuls n\c of lu-r lip. 
 
 P.M. 1. AS ! i;ivc iiic wisiloiu's page, 
 
 Ami awaki' m\ l\iic rago ; 
 
 l,o\c is rici'tiiig ; Love is vain; 
 
 1 will trv a noblcM" strain, 
 
 C\ pi'ipK'xitv ! u\\ hooks 
 
 Hut n-tU'it lu'i- liauiuing Kuiks ! 
 
 JiM'rn.R ' on tlu-o 1 11 V ! 
 Take n\c and n\\ hw on high ! 
 1,0 ! the stars hciu-ath nu- glcani ! 
 HtMO, poet ! is a tluMuc. 
 Madness ! She has conu' ahove ! 
 l'"-vciv clu>nl is whispering '^'•l.ovc!" 
 
 
 
 
 fii. ( 
 
WILL /.I .1/ /i'oN,S' W A LL A ''A'. 
 
 2(^9 
 
 lUillimu Uorifi lUallaic. 
 
 [HoKN 181X.J 
 
 A |.i:iri;i< 10 IVl ai)i;i.ini;. 
 
 \]\<V\ as a passion felt for stars; 
 
 Dcc-p as a thoii^'lit t<» seraphs known ; 
 Yet sad as bird c onlinetl to bars. 
 
 Madeline! my love lialli [^lovvn - 
 
 Taking a mild and solemn tunc, 
 Yes, — still i)y thee my soul is stirred 
 
 With music- ■, from the i'ast it swells, 
 Sweet as a wave's low murmur heard 
 
 In some old sea-remembering shells. 
 
 The misty mountains tower aloft \ 
 Thine infant feet their summits trod \ 
 
 And in yon (piiet valleys oft 
 'I'hy little lingers from the sod 
 Plucked jewels which a pitying ('"d 
 
 Scattered around in leaf and flower. 
 As if to tell each sorrowmg shore, 
 
 That He who walked through Kden's bow 
 Was yet the dim earth hovering o'er. 
 
 ■yJ: 
 
K 
 
 300 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 And yonder sings the silver stream — 
 
 Dancing adown the hstening hill, 
 That wears its mantle from the beam. 
 
 And learns its music from the rill ; 
 
 'Tis murmuring o'er its legends still. 
 While musing lonely by the scene — 
 
 My spirit dark with grief's eclipse — 
 I took new heart — for Madeline 
 
 That rill had hallowed with her lips ! 
 
 Though black with Winter's shadow lies 
 Hie land, and black with woe my soul ; 
 
 Though round me here from men and skie^ 
 Clouds ghost-like stalk or shadowy roll, 
 And such appears the Pilgrim's goal ! — 
 
 Let but a scene which thou didst know, 
 A moment meet my saddened view. 
 
 And instantly it wears a glow 
 
 Unpressed by thee it never knew : — 
 
 Skies smile with unaccustomed spheres. 
 Lit by thy memory into birth — 
 
 And fade away the doubts and fears 
 That palled my heart : the very earth. 
 So dark before, trembles with mirth ; 
 
 While through her everlasting plains 
 
% 
 
 W I LLl A M 11 P S W A L L A C E. -^ o I 
 
 The rivers broad triumphing roll, 
 As if they warmed her swelling veins, 
 And thought she owned a living soul. 
 
 Thus homly do I feel a chain, 
 
 Whose links are wreathed with flowers and 
 light, 
 Is doomed forever to remain 
 
 Between the world and me: — Thy pliglit, 
 
 T'hc beautiful star-gush of a night, 
 Whose dusk wings rustic sadly round — 
 
 riiy love — a pure flame lit about, 
 Which must in Nature's Vase* be found, 
 
 To brino; its loveliest colours out. 
 
 * The vase was of pure alabaster, whose btst figures only appeared wlicii 
 l.imp was kindled inside. — Easlcrn Tia-vcls. 
 
 
 26 
 
 is 24 
 
% Sf 
 
 202 BOOK OF nUBIES. 
 
 (tl)oma5 Dunn ifucjicil), ill 0. 
 
 [Born 1819.] 
 
 ^ G O O D - N I G H T. 
 
 Y dear, good-night ! the moon is down, 
 The stars have brighter grown above ; 
 There's quiet in this dusky town. 
 
 And all things slumber, save my lo\e. 
 Good-night ! good-night ! and in thv dreams 
 
 Go wander in a pleasant clime. 
 By greenest meadows, singing streams, 
 And seasons all one summer time — 
 Good-night, mv dear, good-night ! 
 
 Mv love, good-night ! let slumber steep 
 
 In poppv-juice those melting eves. 
 Till morn shall wake thee from thy sleep. 
 
 And bid my spirit's dawn arise. 
 Good-night ! good-night ! and as to rest 
 
 Upon thy couch thou liest down, 
 One throb for me pervade thy breast, 
 
 And then let sleep thy senses drown. 
 
 Good-night, my love — good night ! 
 
f. Sf 
 
 THOMAH DUNN ENGLISH. 303 
 
 Thi-: Earl's D 
 
 AUGHTER. 
 
 ^^yB^A. WOULD not care to sec thee — thou 
 
 -4 
 
 !jHS' Art changed, they tell mc — so am I ; 
 
 More bronzed my visage, somewhat tamed 
 The spirit once so high. 
 And if of beauty less 
 
 Than once thou hadst, thou hast, 
 Let me alone behold 
 
 Thy features In the past — 
 Be as I saw thee last. 
 
 For as within that past they were. 
 
 Thy charms by memory here are limned- 
 Thc tremulous nostril, rounded chin, 
 Bright eye that never dimmed. 
 And snooded, waving hair 
 
 Which ripple-marked a shore 
 Whose beach was ivory — 
 Unhappy me forlore. 
 My bark rides there no more. 
 
 What time we walked by Avon's side. 
 
 Our spirits twain combined in one. 
 And dreamed of lands with Spring eterne, 
 
Vr 
 
 Aiul nrvc-r-scttiii!'^ sun — 
 This is no loiiiu-i (uns ; 
 1 w.iiuKi to .mil t'ii\ 
 Di-jixlrJ, Miiul, .iiul slionj; 
 I'lu- siiuliplit will not i;lo\v ; 
 1 K^pf i-\ (.-r answi'is ■'■'No!" 
 
 Koi 1 .1111 poor. ^\'ltlull tlKit woul 
 
 How many giicvtnis t.iiills tluii- l.i\- 
 Such has hocii siiu-c oiJ l>ab\ loii, 
 .\iul stuh sh.ill Ik- tor avc. 
 \ i-t not tli\ .Ku-s bio.ul, 
 
 V\\\ \.iss.ils nor tin !;okl. 
 Ml" ill such stione; control 
 1 l.ul i'\ cr power to hoKI, 
 As th\ chainis in.uiifoKI. 
 
 Thou .lit tlic d.iu<;Iitcr v>(".in c.irl, 
 
 N\ Iu^sc .Miccstor .It .X/incour 
 Fell, tigluing hv his monarch's siilc, 
 \\"hcn mine was but a Ihhm'. 
 Since then .1 lu^st ot' loiils 
 
 Aiul ilames ot" high ilegroc 
 Ciavc lustre to thv line. 
 Till birth .iiul ilignilv 
 Rose to their heiviht in thee. 
 
 X 
 
% :S 
 
 T II () M A S P fj NN /',' N <: L I S If. 30 5 
 
 Yd, a/,urc-l)l()()clcd as thou art, 
 
 Whilst I am conic of h)wlier race, 
 I (lid i\t)l oiicc thy lineage 
 Withiii thy hcauty trace. 
 I scaiHied no pedigree 
 
 'I"hy loveliness to pri/.e -, 
 I read no Domesday Hook, 
 In love to make me wise ; 
 High rank fanned not my sighs. 
 
 Hut thou, whilst silting in the shade 
 Of thine old famous family tree, 
 Wilt scarcely to thy mind recall 
 One, (Mice so mu( h to thee. 
 So high thy station now, 
 
 Thy vision's careless sweep 
 Falls not Ixdow to strike 
 That vastly lower deep. 
 Wherein I ever creep. 
 
 Thou wert one time ail tenderness, 
 
 With passion glowing like a spark- 
 Sole ember in those ashes grey — 
 Which flashed, and all grew dark. 
 The co(dness cjf thy |)ri(le 
 Forbade to rise to fne 
 .26* 
 
 A2 2% 
 
K 
 
 7h- 
 
 306 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 What should have been a flame, 
 And swelled and mounted higher,- 
 But / did not expire. 
 
 / lived — I live, if that be life 
 
 To drag these weary moments thus. 
 Doomed to a lack of loving, when 
 Of love most covetous. 
 I am that which I was. 
 
 But thou art different grown. 
 Chilled, petrified by rank. 
 Thyself a thing of stone. 
 Emotionless, alone. 
 
 They wonder at thy scorn of men, 
 
 The trembling vassals of thy nod ; 
 They see not as thy pinions sweep. 
 Where once thy footsteps trod. 
 And thou midst flattering peers 
 
 Mayst well, perhaps, forget 
 How dearer once I was 
 Than all the jewels set 
 Thick on thy coronet. 
 
 But /remember — 'tis to me 
 
 Fixed as a Median edict ; would 
 
 K 
 
K 
 
 THOMAS DUNN ENGLISH. 30; 
 
 The past might verily pass, and I 
 Forget thee as I should. 
 Still for thy love I yearn, 
 
 Although 'tis not for me ; 
 As well the pond expect 
 
 To mingle with the sea, 
 
 As I to mate with thee. 
 
 These are my final words to thee — 
 
 Years part me from the timid first — 
 They gushed when came this flood of tears, 
 Or else this heart had burst. 
 These uttered, none shall know. 
 
 Save Him who knows all things, 
 How, driven to my heart 
 On barbed arrow's wings. 
 This hopeless passion stings. 
 
K 
 
 30S' 
 
 BOOK OF B UBIES. 
 
 _-" , ^ Her Singing. 
 
 FAR I stood and listened 
 
 To hear my darling sing — 
 With every note that heaved her throat. 
 Her eves of violet glistened — 
 Pretty thing ! 
 
 The breeze, with will capricious, 
 Blew iastlv through the trees — 
 
 It drove away the ditty gav, 
 
 Whose notes were so delicious — 
 Wicked breeze ! 
 
 To still the maiden's singing 
 
 It acts a fruitless part ; 
 I hear no words, but, like a bird's, 
 
 The notes she made are ringing 
 Through mv heart. 
 
 is. 
 
 'S? 
 
/r- 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 THOMAS DUNN ENGLISH. 
 
 309 
 
 
 
 r, O'er THE Seas. 
 
 
 c. 
 
 ^9j%f:7 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 AINT streams the shimmer of the moon 
 
 Through yonder lattice pane ; 
 The quiet of the night enfolds 
 
 My mourning soul again. 
 Deep shadows from the hills depend, 
 
 And fall from yonder trees : — 
 How turns my heart from these to thee. 
 
 Fair lady, o'er the seas ! 
 
 I own no land, I hold no rank, 
 
 I labour for my bread ; 
 These hands of mine are hard with toil. 
 
 And heavy falls my tread. 
 Were I to speak my thoughts, thy frown 
 
 My bold desires would freeze ; 
 And yet I turn from toil to thee. 
 
 Fair lady, o'er the seas. 
 
 The troubadours of old could sing 
 How strove, and not in vain, 
 
 A serf, by deeds of high emprise, 
 A demoiselle to gain. 
 
 ^ 
 
 4 
 
K 
 
 310 HOOK or AT/.' //■;>'. 
 
 The ago is one which tlocs not know 
 
 Such idle talcs as these, 
 Yet still I turn with lu)pe to thee, 
 
 Fair lady, o'er the seas. 
 
 The moon is down, and all is dark ; 
 
 The clouds arc o'er the skies ; 
 Slci-p tails on other things around, 
 
 ]>ut shuns these wakeful eves. 
 Through darkness ever so profound 
 
 The e\e oi nicinor\' sees ; 
 From gloom nw spiiit turns to thee, 
 
 i'air ladv, t>'cr the seas. 
 
 Light let the brec/cs wat't the harcjue 
 
 W herein m\ ilarling sails ; 
 Sn\ilc over her the bluest skies, 
 
 HKnv round her spicv gales. 
 Bring h.iciv m\ Io\ c to walk again 
 
 Heneath the oaken trees ; 
 C\ime back ! from other lands, come back, 
 
 I'air lad\-, o'er the seas ! 
 
 i^Mi 
 
 3i 
 
.7 A ME S It U ,S' ,S' K LT. LOW K L h 
 
 31 1 
 
 3amcri tluriCicll Coiucll, 
 
 [Burn 1819.] 
 
 Song. 
 
 ^'HVy If^'I" up the curtains of thine eyes 
 And let their hght outshine ! 
 Let me adore the mysteries 
 
 Of those mild orbs of thine, 
 Which ever queenly calm do roll, 
 Attuned to an ordered soul ! 
 
 Open thy lips yet once again. 
 And, wiiile my soul doth hush 
 
 With awe, pour forth that holy strain 
 Which seemeth me to gush, 
 
 A fount of music, running o'er 
 
 From thy deep spirit's inmost core ' 
 
 The melody that dwells in thee 
 
 Begets in me as well 
 A spiritual harmony, 
 
 A mild and blessed spell ; 
 Far, far above earth's atmosphere 
 I rise, whene'er thy voice I hear. 
 
 :Vi. 
 
 i55: 
 
^s 
 
 312 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 X ill 3bc, Junior, 
 
 [Born J 825.] 
 
 VV 
 
 The Nameless River. 
 
 OW, azure as the crystal air, 
 
 Now, like unsullied snows, 
 In yonder valley, shining there, 
 
 A nameless river flows. 
 
 Adown the rocks in bright cascades 
 
 It pours its flood of song ; 
 Through fragrant fields and silent shades 
 
 Its waters wind along. 
 
 Flowers blossom on the rock-crowned hills 
 Whence its f^iir currents glide. 
 
 And overhang the woodland rills 
 That swell its stately tide. 
 
 Serene its radiant waters flow 
 
 In valleys calm and deep, 
 Where pine and evergreen cedar grow. 
 
 And bending willows weep. 
 
 i% 
 
«>? 
 
 A. JJ. IDE, JUNIOR. 3/3 
 
 Beautiful flowers its banks adorn, 
 
 Its waves are lily-crowned, 
 And harvests of the emerald corn 
 
 Swell o'er the plains around. 
 
 Yet not for this, forevermore 
 
 I love its silvery tide ; 
 My steadfast, peerless Isidore 
 
 Dwells on the river-side ! 
 
 Upon its grassy banks at noon. 
 
 Like one in dreams astra\-, 
 I listen to the tremulous tune 
 
 The gliding waters play. 
 
 Still unto her my spirit leans, 
 
 When, by the river-side. 
 Mid fragrant flowers and evergreens 
 
 I walk at eventide. 
 
 1 loiter by its waves at night, 
 
 Through shadowy vales afar, 
 With visions of ideal delight 
 
 Entranced as lovers are. 
 
 With tremulous stars the waters shine 
 
 Like old enchanted streams : — 
 Beneath her lattice, wreathed with vine, 
 
 They murmur whilst she dreams ! 
 
 ' 27 
 
 K 
 
^/r 
 
 7^ 
 
 314 BOOK OF h'rniL-s. 
 
 Flow on, thou nameless river ! flow 
 
 In beauty to the sea -, 
 Mv heart is on thy waves of snow, 
 
 iMv love flows on witli thee. 
 
 Thy silent waves to nie no more 
 Like nameless waters glide, — 
 
 I name thee from my Isidork, 
 Who dwells upon thy side ! 
 
 L 
 
ve 
 
 JAMES B A YA li I) TA YLO H. 
 
 3'5 
 
 3amc5 Baijarb (Jaijlor, 
 
 [BouN 1825.] 
 
 Bedouin Song. 
 
 ROM the Desert I come to thee 
 
 On a stallion shod with fire ; 
 And the winds are left behind 
 
 In the speed of my desire. 
 Under thy window I stand, 
 
 And the midnight hears my cry : 
 I love thee, I love but thee, 
 With a love that shall not die 
 Till the sun grows cold. 
 And the stars arc old. 
 And the leaves of the Judgment 
 Book unfold ! 
 
 kL 
 
 lyook from thy window and see 
 My passion and my pain ; 
 
 I lie on the sands below. 
 And I faint in thy disdain. 
 
 .si 
 
^. — ^ 
 
 316 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 Let the night-winds touch thy brow 
 
 With the heat of my burning sigh, 
 And melt thee to hear the vow 
 Of a love that shall not die 
 Till the sun grows cold, 
 And the stars are old, 
 And the leaves of the Judgment 
 Book unfold ! 
 
 My steps are nightlv driven, 
 Bv the fever in mv breast, 
 To hear from thy lattice breathed 
 
 The word that shall give me rest. 
 Open the door of thy heart. 
 
 And open thy chamber door, 
 And my kisses shall teach thy lips 
 The love that shall fade no more 
 Till the sun grows cold, 
 And the stars are old. 
 And the leaves of the Judgment 
 Book unfold ! 
 
 •te % 
 
n- 
 
 J A ME SEA TA R D TA YLOIi. 
 
 317 
 
 Song. 
 
 HE violet loves a sunny bank, 
 The cowslip loves the lea ; 
 
 The scarlet creeper loves the elm, 
 But I love — thee ! 
 
 The sunshine kisses mount and vale. 
 
 The stars they kiss the sea ; 
 The w^est v^^inds kiss the clover bloom. 
 
 But I kiss— thee ! 
 
 The oriole weds his mottled mate ; 
 The lily's bride o' the bee ; 
 
 Heaven's marriage-ring is round the earth- 
 Shall I wed thee ? 
 
 27* 
 
¥s 
 
 318 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 ^ ^ . n t t*H A NT QMS. 
 
 it* GAIN I sit within the mansion, 
 In the old, familiar seat ; 
 And shade and sunshine chase each other 
 O'er the carpet at my feet. 
 
 Hut the sweet-brier's arms have wrestled 
 upwards 
 
 In the summers that are past. 
 And the willow trails its branches lower 
 
 Than when I saw them last. 
 
 Thev strive to shut the sunshine wholly 
 
 From out the haunted room ; 
 To fill the house, that once was jovful. 
 
 With silence and with gloom. 
 
 And many kind, remembered faces 
 
 Within the doorway come — 
 Voices, that wake the sweeter music 
 
 Of one that now is dumb. 
 
 Thev sing, in tones as glad as ever, 
 The songs she lo\ed to hear ; 
 
 2k 
 
-^* 
 
 J A Ml'JS BA YA li D TA YL R. 319 
 
 They braid the rose in summer garlands, 
 Whose flowers to her were dear. 
 
 And still, her footsteps in the passage, 
 
 Her blushes at the door. 
 Her timid words of maiden welcome. 
 
 Come back to me once more. 
 
 And all forgetful of my sorrow, 
 
 Unmindful of my pain, 
 I think she has but newly left me, 
 
 And soon will come again. 
 
 She stays without, perchance, a moment, 
 
 To dress her dark-brown hair ; 
 I hear the rustle of her garments — 
 
 Her light step on the stair ! 
 
 O, fluttering heart ! control thy tumult, 
 
 Lest eyes profane should see 
 My cheeks betray the rush of rapture 
 
 Her coming brings to me ! 
 
 She tarries long : but lo, a whisper 
 
 Beyond the open door. 
 And, gliding through the quiet sunshine, 
 
 A shadow on the floor ! 
 
 :m. 
 
3-^0 HOOK OF JiUlUES. 
 
 Ah ! 'tis the whispering pine that calls me ; 
 
 The vine, whose shadow stravs ; 
 And ni\- patient heart must still await hei', 
 
 Nor chide her long delays. 
 
 But mv heart grows sick with weary waitino;. 
 
 As manv a time before : 
 Her toot is e\ er at the threshold, 
 
 Yet ne\ er passes o'er. 
 
/; 1 (' II A /.' J) II K X li Y HTODD A i: I). 3 2 I 
 
 llicl)arb €)cnnj Sto&&av&. 
 
 [BoKN 1*515.] 
 
 A S 1: K i:n A I) 1-: 
 
 moon is miifflfcl in a cloiui, 
 
 - y,^.^ That folds the lover's star, 
 VR/ But still beneath thv balcony 
 
 ^1 
 
 1 touch my soft guitar. 
 
 If thou art waking, J^ady dear, 
 
 The fairest in the land, 
 Unbar thy wreathed lattice now, 
 
 And wave thy snowy hand. 
 
 She hears me not ; her spirit lies 
 In trances mute and deep ; — 
 
 But Music turns the golden key 
 Within the gate of Sleep ! 
 
 Then let her sleep, and if I fail 
 
 'I'o set her spirit free. 
 My song shall mingle in her dream, 
 
 And she will dream of me ! 
 
 K 
 
Vs 
 
 ^^11 HOOK OF NriUFS. 
 
 JSocicpl) LU'cuuau 
 
 [Born iSiS. Dikp 1S57.] 
 
 To M V \\' I F K. 
 
 ^OME to im\ dearest — I'm lonolv without tiioo ; 
 l)a\-tiiiic aiul iiiL:;ht-tinio I'm tliiiikiiiL:; about 
 
 V v. Ni'j,lit-tinio and dav-tinio in dreams 1 behold 
 
 Unwelcome the waking that ceases to told thee. 
 C'ome to me, darling, mv sorrows to lighten ; 
 i.\ime in thv beautv, to bless and to brighten ; 
 (.\'>me in thv womanhood, mecklv and lowly; 
 Come in thv lovingness, queenlv and holv. 
 
 Swallows will Hit round the desolate ruin. 
 Telling of Spring and its jovous renewing ; 
 
 And thoughts of thv lo\e, and its n\anitold treasure. 
 
 Are circling nw heart with a promise of pleasure. 
 
 C>h, Spring of mv spirit ! oh. May of mv bosom ! 
 
 Shine out on mv soul till it bourgeon and blossom : 
 The waste of mv life has a rose-root within it. 
 
 And th\- fondness alone to the sunshine can win it. 
 
 3i 
 
.JOSKl'If liliF.XNAN. 323 
 
 Figure that moves like a song through the even — 
 Features ht up by a reflex of Heaven — 
 Fyes Hke tlie skies of poor Erin, our mother, 
 Where shadow and sunshine are ehasing eaeh other ; 
 Smiles coming seldom, but childhke and simple. 
 Opening their eyes from the heart of a dimple-, 
 Oh, thanks to the Saviour ; that even thy seeming 
 Is left to the exile to brighten his dreaming. 
 
 You have been glad when you knew I was gladdened ; 
 Dear, are you sad now to hear 1 am saddened ? 
 Our hearts ever answer in tunc and in time, love, 
 As octave to octave, and rhyme unto rhyme, love. 
 I cannot weep, but your tears will Ix- flowing ; 
 You cannot smile, but my cheeks will be glowing ; 
 I would not die without you at my side, love -, 
 You will not linger when I shall have died, love. 
 
 C-ome to me, dear, ere 1 die of my sorrow. 
 Rise on my gloom like the sun of to-morrow — 
 Strong, swift, and fond as the words which I speak, love, 
 With a song on your lips and a smile on your cheek, love. 
 Come, for my heart in your absence is weary ; 
 Haste, for my spirit is sickened and dreary ; 
 Come to the heart which is throbbing to press thee ; 
 Come to the arms that would fondly caress thee. 
 
 Jti — — % 
 
K 
 
 ,in 
 
 HOOK (U-' A r HI f-:s. 
 
 3ol)u U:eitcu vHookc 
 
 [BoKN IS50.J 
 
 rill. Hridi; 01 riir Cmi:\ .\i u-k. 
 
 l.UCKY HUM is tlu- C^lu-\.ilici, 
 ^-^ riu- (.'hcvaltc-r Louis D'Or ; 
 
 'V>^ I U- won nn Itcautiful lo\ c tVom mc ; 
 ■'^X lie was rich — 1 \ oi\ poor: 
 
 •V"* So \ cr\ pool that tlu- imiuIimu luaiJ, 
 When wo wcif weighed in the scales together. 
 
 loiiiul the v>ne side hoa\ v as lead, 
 M\ own as lii2.ht as a teather ! 
 
 \\ hat then were the loves ot" bo\- and gul 
 
 Who had pla\ed tor \ears 'neath tlie oak-trees tall, 
 And plighted their tioth a thousand times, 
 
 — When the Chevalier came to the hall ? 
 He camo in a chariot gav and hue, 
 
 1, through the dust ot' the common wav ; 
 ■ Twas a sillv thought that a woman's heart 
 
 l.\nild sav the rich man na\ . 
 
 34 
 
JOHN ICSTKN COOKE. 325 
 
 He made his elegant how, and smiled ; 
 
 He came again and the day was won : 
 Wlien a month had passed he was (here no more. 
 
 And the light from the hall was gone : 
 The light and life of the hoiisi! and lawn 
 
 Had disa|)pcai(d with the form so dear; 
 My pride and joy, my hope, my all. 
 
 Was the bride of the Chevalier! 
 
 And now, gof)d friend, do yon ask again. 
 
 Why woman with me is a word of s( (jrn ? 
 I l(jved this girl with a doting love, 
 
 And she made my life forlorn ! 
 She sold her maiden body and soul 
 
 For silks and jewels, and plate and gold : 
 Faith, and truth, and honor, and heart 
 
 —Sold, sold, sold ! 
 
 The false and feeble heart gave way ; 
 
 She made me the man y(;(i see me now — 
 With the silver in my yoiilhfiil hair 
 
 And the furrows here on my brow : 
 She taught me then, in my early youth, 
 
 'I'hat women wen: false, and weak, and mean : 
 If she had clung to her troth — who knows — 
 
 iVIy life — what it might have been? 
 2K 
 
 :^ % 
 
326 BOOK OF RUBIES 
 
 For Spring was then in the bud with me ; 
 
 My father left me a noble name — 
 With love to shine on the rugged path, 
 
 I looked to the heights of fame : 
 And now 1 ponder, and mope and dream 
 
 Through a weary life that I hate, my friend, 
 And but for fear of the coward's hiss 
 
 At a coward's act, would end ! 
 
 Do you think I envy the Chevalier 
 
 His beautiful bride with the sunny curls — 
 The woman I loved with a foolish love — 
 
 Adored as the pearl of pearls ? 
 The Chevalier is prince of the Town, 
 
 But I am king of the world of Thought — 
 He is welcome, for me, as the flowers in May, 
 
 To the bride whom his money bought ! 
 
 And she, with a soul that loved alone 
 
 The red gold's sheen, and the back low bent 
 To the gilded coach — is welcome too ; 
 
 She may reign to her heart's content ; 
 She loved me once, if she does not now. 
 
 When a freezing stare would greet my claim 
 To an old acquaintance, years ago. 
 
 With the splendid city dame ! 
 
 Ai£. 
 
•fcj ^ 
 
 JOHN ESTEN COOKE. 327 
 
 II. 
 These words I said with a bitter heart, 
 
 And thought with scorn of the laughing queen, 
 As I walked, with a scowl, through the smiling woods, 
 
 And over the meadows green ; — 
 But when I met, at a ball last night. 
 
 The beautiful bride of the Chevaher, 
 You may laugh, but I swear, at sight of me, 
 
 Her eye was dim with a tear ! 
 
 Does she think — I said — in the dance's whirl. 
 
 As she sees me here, of the hours long gone — 
 The hours we spent in the dear old hall. 
 
 And under the oaks on the lawn ? 
 I turned away, for the dance was done, 
 
 I turned away with a bitter heart — 
 But a slender finger touched my arm — 
 
 We walked from the crowd apart. 
 
 Shall I write the words of the voice that shook, 
 
 As the blue eyes filled with a sudden tear ? 
 The words would scarcely bring a smile 
 
 To the lips of the Chevalier ! 
 " Alas ! for the days," were the murmured words, 
 
 " We passed in the hall, by the sunny stream. 
 The old, old days come back to me. 
 
 Like a happy, smiling dream ! 
 
m 
 
 328 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 '•'• And you — you have never married, sir — 
 
 You do not love me — I see that well : 
 You pity me, or perhaps despise 
 
 The married ball-room belle ! 
 But oh ! if you knew why the blaze and din 
 
 Of balls is all that I live for now — 
 You would know that the pearls that loop my hair 
 
 Droop over a burning brow ! 
 
 " I have pined, long years, for the present hour — 
 
 I have tried, with a trembling hand, to write ; 
 But the time has come ; we are face to face. 
 
 You shall know the truth to-night !" 
 And the truth, the terrible, awful truth, 
 
 I heard from the lips that were yet so dear : 
 She had loved me still, with her heart of hearts, 
 
 When the bride of the Chevalier. 
 
 A guardian's threat, and a feeble will. 
 
 Had made her yield to the awful shame — 
 She told me all with a writhing lip 
 
 And a cheek that burned like flame. 
 She told me all, as I shuddered there ; 
 
 She begged like a child for a word of grace — 
 From me who longed to draw her close 
 
 In a passionate, wild embrace ! 
 
JO UN ESTEN OOOKE. 329 
 
 But the madness passed, and I said no more 
 
 Than the simple words I write down here, — 
 " I love you, my darling, and pardon all," 
 
 Then I bowed to the Chevalier : 
 She took his arm with a smothered sigh 
 
 And a look so sad as they passed away, 
 That the blue eyes wet with tears will haunt 
 
 My heart to its dying day. 
 
 And so, I have told, good friend of mine. 
 
 The story the world has got by heart. 
 I do not mutter against my fate, 
 
 For each must play his part : 
 For me, I have worn the " inky cloak" 
 
 While you may have danced in ribbons gay ; 
 But the dress is naught so the heart is right. 
 
 And we watch, and praise, and pray ! 
 
33^ BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 iEbioarb Uobcvt Bulujcr-Cijtton, 
 
 [Born 1831.] 
 
 ^A^^^- At Paris. 
 
 ^ T" Paris it was, at the opera there, 
 
 And she looked like a queen in a book that 
 night. 
 With the wreath of pearl in her raven hair, 
 And the brooch on her breast so bright. 
 
 Of all the operas Verdi wrote, 
 
 The best to me is the Trovatore, 
 And Mario could charm with his tenor note 
 
 The souls in Purgatory. 
 
 The moon on the tower slept soft as snow ; 
 
 And who was not thrilled in the strangest way, 
 As we heard him sing, while the gas burned low, 
 
 " Non ti scordar di me ?" 
 
 There, in our front-row box, we sat 
 Together, my bride-betrothed and I — 
 
 ^ 
 
^. T* 
 
 EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON. 331 
 
 My gaze was fixed on my opera-hat, 
 And hers on the stage hard by. 
 
 Meanwhile I was thinking of my first love, 
 As I had not been thinking of aught for years. 
 
 Till over my eyes there began to move 
 Something that felt like tears. 
 
 I thought of the dress that she wore last time. 
 When we stood 'neath the cypress-trees together. 
 
 In that lost land, in that soft clime. 
 In the crimson evening weather. 
 
 I thought of our little quarrels and strife. 
 
 And the letter that brought me back my ring ; 
 
 And it all seemed then, in the waste of life, 
 Such a very little thing. 
 
 And I think, in the lives of most women and men, 
 There's a moment when all would go smooth and 
 even. 
 
 If only the dead could find out when 
 To come back and be forgiven. 
 
K 
 
 332 
 
 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 ^ 
 
 |)aul ^, f)at)nc 
 
 [Bo 
 
 !3il 
 
 A Portrait. 
 
 fHE laughlno; Hours before her feet 
 
 Are strewing vernal roses, 
 And the voices in her soul are sv^^eet 
 
 As music's mellowed closes ; 
 All hopes and passions heavenlv-born, 
 
 In her have met together, 
 And joy diffuses round her morn 
 
 A mist of golden weather. 
 
 As o'er her cheek of delicate dves 
 
 The blooms of childhood hover. 
 So do the tranced and sinless eyes 
 
 All childhood's heart discover — 
 F'uU of a dreamy happiness 
 
 With rainbow fancies laden. 
 Whose arch of promise glows to bless 
 
 Her spirit's beauteous Adenn. 
 
 Si. 
 
.^- 
 
 ^ 
 
 PAUL U. HAYNE. 333 
 
 She is a being born to raise 
 
 Those undcflled emotions, 
 That hnk us with our sunniest days 
 
 And most sincere devotions ; 
 In her, we see renewed, and bright, 
 
 That phase of earthly story. 
 Which ghmmers in the morning light 
 
 Of God's exceeding glory. 
 
 Why in a life of mortal cares 
 
 Appear these heavenly faces ? 
 Why on the verge of darkened years 
 
 These amaranthine graces ? 
 'Tis but to cheer the soul that faints 
 
 With pure and blest evangels. 
 To prove if heaven is rich with saints. 
 
 That earth may have her angels. 
 
 Enough ! 'tis not for me to pray 
 
 That on her life's sweet river. 
 The calmness of a virgin day 
 
 May rest, and rest forever ; 
 I know a guardian genius stands 
 
 Beside those waters lowly. 
 And labours with immortal hands 
 
 To keep them pure and holy. 
 
K 
 
 334 
 
 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 -^ 
 
 ©corgc ^rnoli, 
 
 [BOKN 1834.] 
 
 Serenade. 
 
 "' HEAR the dry-voiced insects call, 
 
 And "Come !" they say, "the night grows 
 brief!" 
 jj^ I hear the dcw-diops pattering fall 
 
 P'rom leaf to leaf— from leaf to leaf, 
 i 
 
 Your night-lamp glimmers fitfiilK' ; 
 
 I watch below ; you sleep above ; 
 Yet on your blind I seem to see 
 
 Your shadow, Love — your shadow, Love ! 
 
 The roses in the night-wind swav. 
 Their petals glistening with the dew ; 
 
 As they are longing for the day, 
 I long for \ou — I long for vou ! 
 
 But you are in the land of dreams ; 
 
 \'our eyes are closed ; your gentle breath 
 So faintly comes, your slumber seems 
 
 Almost like Death — almost like Death ! 
 
'fcr 
 
 GEORGE ARNOLD 
 
 Sleep on ; but may my music twine 
 Your sleep with strands of melody, 
 
 And lead you, gentle Love of mine, 
 To dream of me — to dream of me ! 
 
 335 
 
 Jam Satis. 
 
 ^OT much for sordid golden dross I care, 
 
 I wish not much of worldly wealth to hold ; 
 Seek her I love — look on her shining hair — 
 Is it not wealth of gold ? 
 
 I am not envious of the diamond's flash. 
 
 Its wondrous brilliance daz/Jeth not my sight, 
 
 For her sweet eyne, beneath their fringed lash, 
 Make dim the diamond's light. 
 
 I care no more for music's dreamy swell. 
 Nor flute nor viol greatly pleaseth me ; 
 
 Her speech is softer than a silver bell, 
 Her laugh is melody. 
 
 I leave the wine which once I loved to sip ; 
 
 Why should I drain the crimson beaker dry. 
 When there is subtile nectar on her lip 
 
 That 1 may drink, and die ? 
 
 :% 
 
33^ 
 
 BOOK OF HUB IKS. 
 
 15? 
 
 ^atl)auicl (!$. Sl)cpl)cvb. 
 
 [Born 1836.I 
 
 A Summer Rkminiscence. 
 
 HEAR "o more the locust beat 
 
 His shrill loud drum through all the day 
 
 I miss the mingled odours sweet 
 Of clo\er and of scented hay. 
 
 No more I hear the smothered song 
 From hedges guarded thick with thorn : 
 
 The days grow brief, the nights are long, 
 Hie light comes like a ghost at morn. 
 
 I sit before mv lire alone. 
 
 And idl\- dream of all the past : 
 
 I think of moments that are flown — 
 Alas ! the\- were too sweet to last. 
 
 The warmth that filled the languid noons 
 The purple waves of trembling haze — 
 
 The liquid light of silver moons — 
 I'he summer sunset's golden blaze. 
 
 :^ 
 
NATHANIEL G. SHKI'IIERD. 337 
 
 I feel the soft winds fan my cheek, 
 I hear them murmur throug-h the rye ; 
 
 I see the milky clouds that seek 
 Some nameless harbour in the sky. 
 
 The stile beside the spreading pine, 
 The pleasant fields beyond the grove, 
 
 The lawn where, underneath the vine. 
 She sang the song I used to love. 
 
 The path along the windy beach. 
 
 That leaves the shadowy linden-tree. 
 
 And goes by sandy capes that reach 
 Their shining arms to clasp the sea. 
 
 I view them all — I tread once more 
 In meadow grasses cool and deep ; 
 
 I walk beside the sounding shore, 
 I climb again the wooded steep. 
 
 Oh, happy hours of pure delight ! 
 
 Sweet moments drowned in wells of bliss ! 
 Oh, halcyon days so calm and bright — 
 
 Each morn and evening seemed to kiss ! 
 
 And that whereon I saw her first, 
 
 While angling in the noisy brook. 
 When through the tangled wood she burst •, 
 
 In one small hand a glove and book, 
 29 
 
338 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 As with the other, dimpled, white. 
 She held the slender boughs aside ; 
 
 While through the leaves the yellow light 
 Like golden water seemed to glide, 
 
 And broke in ripples on her neck. 
 And played like tire around her hat, 
 
 And slid adown her form to fleck 
 
 The moss-grown rock on which I sat. 
 
 She standing rapt in sweet surprise. 
 And seeming doubtful if to turn ; 
 
 Her novel, as I raised my eyes. 
 
 Dropped down amid the tall green fern. 
 
 This day and that — the one so bright. 
 The other like a thing forlorn •, 
 
 To-morrow, and the early light 
 
 Will shine upon her marriage morn. 
 
 P"or when the mellow autumn flushed 
 The thickets where the chestnut fell, 
 
 And in the \alcs the maple blushed, 
 Another came who knew her well. 
 
 Who sat with her below the pine, 
 
 And with her through the meadow moved, 
 
 And underneath the purpling vine 
 She sang to him the song I loved. 
 
THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH 339 
 
 ®l)oma5 Bailcij QVlbricI). 
 
 [Born 1836.J 
 
 *. \ /i- " Madam, as you pass us by." 
 
 o^A^ ADAM, as you pass us by, 
 
 Jv^i Dreaming of your loves and wine, 
 Do not brush your rich brocade 
 
 Against this little maid of mine, 
 Madam, as you pass us by. 
 
 When in youth my blood was warm ; 
 
 Wine was royal, life complete ; 
 So I drained the flask of wine, 
 
 So I sat at women's feet, 
 When in youth my blood was warm. 
 
 Time has taught me pleasant truths : 
 Lilies grow where thistles grew; 
 
 Ah, you loved me not. This maid 
 Loves me. There's an end of you ! 
 
 Time has taught me pleasant truths. 
 
 ^ 
 
•*r 
 
 340 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 I will speak no bitter words, 
 
 Too much passion made me blind 
 
 You were subtle. Let it go ! 
 For the sake of womankind 
 
 I will speak no bitter words. 
 
 But, Madam, as you pass us by, 
 Dreaming of your loves and wine, 
 
 Do not brush your rich brocade 
 Against this little maid of mine, 
 
 Madam, as you pass us by. 
 
 .•i^ 
 
vc 
 
 INDEX OF SUBJECTS. 
 
 Absenck ■^■^'■i- Embury. 268 
 
 Abbtnce Skakspcare. 41 
 
 A Character of Love Danyell. 32 
 
 A Description S/iuhfearc. 38 
 
 A Ditty ■^'> P- ^'dney. 24 
 
 A Health Pinkney. 227 
 
 "Ah, how sweet!".... Drydai. 108 
 
 Air, Lines to an Indian Shelley. 208 
 
 A Letter to Madeline Wallace. 299 
 
 Amulet, The Emerion. 245 
 
 Annoyer, The ^^''^'^- ^59 
 
 Ann, To Rockwell. 257 
 
 Anthea, To Hcrrkk. 74 
 
 A Picture Song Finkney. 231 
 
 A Picture {■FcrJsiuorth. 162 
 
 A Portrait ■f^'y'"'- 33^ 
 
 A Renunciation Earl of Oxford. 19 
 
 A Serenade Stoddard. 321 
 
 " Aak me no more" Tennyson. 282 
 
 A Summer Reminiscence Shepherd. 336 
 
 A Supplication Coivley. loo 
 
 A Supplication ■i>''> 2'. Wyat. 11 
 
 At Paris E. R. Bulwer-Lytton. 3^0 
 
 Aurora, To Earl of Stirling. 57 
 
 Autumn Rose, To an Hoffman. 252 
 
 A Vow Earl of Surrey. 14 
 
 "A weary lot is thine" Sir IV alter Scott. 165 
 
 Banks o' Doon, The Bumi. 159 
 
 " Beauties, You meaner" Sir H. Wotton. 45 
 
 29* 
 
34-2 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 I'AfJE 
 
 Beauty, Sleeping Drummond. 60 
 
 Beauty, The Sleeping Rogers. 161 
 
 Bedouin Song Taylor. 315 
 
 "Believe me" Moore. 184 
 
 "Birds, Ye little" Hcywood. 75 
 
 Blue and Gold Clapp. 291 
 
 Bonnie Lady Ann Cunnhg/iam. 189 
 
 Boy Tammy, My AVNcill. 143 
 
 Braes of Yarrow, The Logan. 147 
 
 Bride of the Chevalier, The J. E. Cooke. 324 
 
 Campaspe, Cupid and ^-vb''- ^5 
 
 Castara Habington. 78 
 
 "Cease, anxious world" Sir G. Etherege. Ill 
 
 Character of Love, A Danycll. 32 
 
 Child and Maiden Sir C. Sedley. 116 
 
 Chevalier, The liride of the J. E. Cooke. 324 
 
 "Come, rest in this bosom" Moore. 183 
 
 Complaint, Rosalind 's Lodge. 28 
 
 "Confess, I do" Sir R. Aytoun. 48 
 
 Confessional, The Willis. 263 
 
 Corydon, Pliillida and Brecton. 6 
 
 "Couldst thou look as dear" Moore. 186 
 
 Cupid and Campaspe Lv/ye. 25 
 
 Cupid, To Cartzurig/it. 87 
 
 Daughter, The Earl's Dr. English. 303 
 
 Dead Love, The Wordsivorth. 164 
 
 Delia, To Danyell. 33 
 
 Delia, To Russell. 160 
 
 Deposition, The Stanley. 118 
 
 Description, A Shakspeare. 38 
 
 Description, Melicertus's Greene. 30 
 
 "Despair, Shall I, wasting in" Wither. 63 
 
 Diancmc, To Herrick. 73 
 
 Diaphenia Constable. 34 
 
 Discovery, The Coivley. lot 
 
 k. 
 
INDEX OF SUBJECTS. 343 
 
 I'AGE 
 
 Ditty, A Sidney. 24 
 
 Doon, The Banks o' Burns. 159 
 
 "Drink to me only" Jonson. 53 
 
 Dumblane, Jessie, tlie Fluwcr o' Tannahill. 177 
 
 Earl's Daughter, Tlic Dr. Er.glnh. 303 
 
 Echoes Rloi^re. 188 
 
 Elmira, To Ltggctt. 238 
 
 Endymion Longfclloiv. 269 
 
 Ermengarde, To fViliis. 261 
 
 Eva, To Emcnoti. 244 
 
 Evening Star, The Dr. Ley den. 179 
 
 " Fair, sweet, and young" Dryden. 109 
 
 Fare thee weel Burns. 155 
 
 Farewell Lord Byron. 192 
 
 Farewell, Love's Drayton. 36 
 
 Farewell, The Hoffman. 256 
 
 Feelings, On my own Queen Elizabeth. 17 
 
 First sight, Love at Sir E. L. Buliver-Lytton. 250 
 
 Flight of Love, The Shelley. 212 
 
 Florence Vane P. P. Cooke. 295 
 
 Flower o' Dumblane, Jessie, the Tannahill. i-jj 
 
 Flowers, The Picture of T. C. in a Prospect of Mar-vel. 106 
 
 Fugitive from Love, The Sargent. 297 
 
 Girdle, On a fValler. 80 
 
 ** Give place, ye lovers" Earl of Surrey. 15 
 
 Go, happy Rose Herrick. 71 
 
 Go, lovely Rose Waller. 8l 
 
 Good -Morrow Heytvood. 74 
 
 Good-Night Dr. English. 302 
 
 Happiness, Matrimonial Lapraik. 141 
 
 Health, A Pinkney. 227 
 
 Heart, The Waefu' Aliss Blamire. 145 
 
 Hebrew Maid, The Lord Byron. 196 
 
 :VL 
 
 y,. 
 
■s;? 
 
 L 
 
 34.4 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 PACK 
 
 Helen of Kirkconncll Anonymous. 84 
 
 Her I love Dermody. i-j^ 
 
 Her Singing Dr. Englii/i. 308 
 
 Highland Mary Burns. 156 
 
 H , To Pinknty. 233 
 
 1 do confess Sir R. Aytoun. 48 
 
 I'll never love thee more Marquis of Montrose. 89 
 
 Inconstancy, Woman's Sir R. Aytoun. 47 
 
 Inconstant Coiulcy. loi 
 
 Indian Air, Lines to an Slielley. 208 
 
 Isabella Markham, Sonnet on Harrington. 18 
 
 " I saw thee vifccp" Lord Byron. 194 
 
 "I will love her no more" Huffman. 255 
 
 Jam Satis Arnold. 335 
 
 Jcanie Morrison MuthtriucU. 218 
 
 Jessie, the Flower of Dumblane Tannahill. 177 
 
 John Anderson, my Jo Burns. 154 
 
 Kiss : a Dialogue, The Hcrrick. 70 
 
 Kiss, The (Quality of a Drummond. 60 
 
 Kiss, Upon a Stolen JVithcr. 65 
 
 " Ladies, To all you" Earl of Dorset. 112 
 
 Lady Ann, Bonnie Cunningham. 189 
 
 Lady, To a Griffin. 246 
 
 Lady, To a Prentice. 247 
 
 Letter to Madeline, A Wallace. 299 
 
 Lines to an Indian Air Shelley. 208 
 
 Lost Love, The IVordsivorth. 163 
 
 Love, A Character of Danyell. 32 
 
 Love at First Sight Sir E. L. Buliccr-Lytton. 250 
 
 Love compared Sir T. fVyat. 12 
 
 Love, Maid of my S. T. Coleridge. 174 
 
 Love Not Airs. Norton. 274 
 
 Love Rejected, Mediocrity in Careiv. 55 
 
- — Sf 
 
 INDEX OF SUBJECT.^. 345 
 
 Love, Rivalry in f^"^'^'- '^^ 
 
 Lover's Vow, The ^'^'"'P Aticrbury. 120 
 
 Love's Farewell Drayton. 36 
 
 Love's Omnipresence Hyhesicr. 35 
 
 Love's Perjuries Shaksfcare. 39 
 
 Love's Philosophy '^'^'%- ^1° 
 
 Love ^- T. Coleridge. 170 
 
 Love, Summons to Drummond. 58 
 
 Love, The Dead IVordnvorlh. 164 
 
 Love, The Flight of ^^'^h- ^'^ 
 
 Love, The Fugitive from Sargent. 297 
 
 Love, The Lost Words-worth. 163 
 
 Love, True Shakspeare. 40 
 
 Love Unchangeable Daives. 
 
 Love, Wedded ^^"- Dinnies 
 
 Z42 
 280 
 
 " Madam, as you pass us by" Aldnch. 339 
 
 Madeline, A Letter to Wallace. 299 
 
 Mad Girl's Song, The ^'- 'D/*'^'«- ^^'^ 
 
 Maiden, Child and ^'"- C- ^"^'^y- "<^ 
 
 Maid of my Love ^- '^'- Coleridge. 174 
 
 Maid, The Hebrew Lord Byron. 195 
 
 Magdalen "''^^''^- ^°3 
 
 Margaret, Merry ^'"'""- 9 
 
 Matrimonial Happiness LapraiL 141 
 
 Mediocrity in Love Rejected Careiv. 55 
 
 Meliccrtus's Description Greene. 30 
 
 Message, The. 
 
 .Donne. 50 
 
 k 
 
 Minstrel's S:>ng CAattert.n. 151 
 
 Mistress, Wishes for the supposed Cras/iaiv. 95 
 
 Modesty "'"• ^^3 
 
 Morrison, Jeanie Mother-well. 218 
 
 My Boy Tammy McNeil. 143 
 
 My Love and I ^"''"^'- 79 
 
 «' My Mother bids me bind my hair" Mrs. Hunter. 139 
 
 My Playmate Whittier. 271 
 
 My Wife, To Brennan. 322 
 
F. 
 
 346 BOOK OF RUniES. 
 
 PAOK 
 
 Nameless River, The Lit. 31a 
 
 Name, Tliy IL,Jf],„i„. 253 
 
 Nightingale, The- llariirJicU. 43 
 
 Nymph's Reply, TIil- Sir If. Ralcijrh. ii 
 
 O'er the Seas Dr. Er:^lish. 309 
 
 «*Of a' the airts" Burns. 158 
 
 " Oh, fiiirest of the rural maids" Brydiit. 199 
 
 " Oh, yes — so well" A lucre. 187 
 
 Omnipresence, Love's. Syh'cstcr. 35 
 
 On a Girdle fFM-r. 82 
 
 " O, Nancy, wilt thou go with nic" Bishop Percy. 133 
 
 One he would love, The Sir T. JVyat. 12 
 
 On my own Keelings i^ieen Elizabeth. 17 
 
 Panglory's Wooing Song G. Fletcher. 63 
 
 Paris, At E. R. Bukuer-Lytton. 330 
 
 Passionate Shepherd, The Marloiue. 20 
 
 Perjuries, Love's Shakspcare. 39 
 
 Phan toms Ta ylor. 3 1 8 
 
 Phillida and Corydon Breton. 26 
 
 Philosophy, Love's Shelley. 210 
 
 Picture, A irordsiuorth. i6; 
 
 Picture ot'T. C. in a Prospect of Flowers Rlar-vel. 106 
 
 Picture Song, A Pinkney. 231 
 
 Playmate, My Jf'hittier. 271 
 
 Portrait, A Huyue. 332 
 
 Prohibition, The Donne. 51 
 
 Reminiscence, A Summer Shepherd. 336 
 
 Renu nciation, A Earl of Oxford. 1 9 
 
 Reply, The Nymph's Raleigh. ai 
 
 Resolve, The Brome. 104 
 
 Rivalry in Love Walsh. I2J 
 
 River, The Nameless Lie. 312 
 
 Rosalind's Complaint Lodge. 28 
 
 Rose, Go, lovely fFalUr. 83 
 
 .!iS- 
 
INDEX OF SUBJECTS. 347 
 
 I'AOE 
 
 Sarah, To Dr. Drah. 201 
 
 Serenade .^Irnold. 334 
 
 Serenade Dr. Bird. 240 
 
 Serenade Pinkney. 229 
 
 Serenade I'roctor. 217 
 
 Serenade, A SonUard. 321 
 
 "Shall I, wasting in despair" IVithcr. 65 
 
 Shepherd, The Passionate Marlowe. 20 
 
 Sight, Love at First .S/r E. L. Buhvcr-Lytton. 250 
 
 Singing, Her Dr. EngliUi. 308 
 
 Sleeping Beauty Drummond. 60 
 
 Sleeping Beauty, Tlie Rogers. 161 
 
 Song, A Picture Pinkney. 231 
 
 Song, Bedouin Taylor. 315 
 
 Song Brooks. 197 
 
 Song Broivne. 69 
 
 Song Burleigh. 287 
 
 Song Camphell. 18 I 
 
 Song C. Dibdin. 140 
 
 Song *. ^ir TV. Da-venant. 81 
 
 Song De Fere. 293 
 
 aong. 
 
 , Dr. Sliaiu. 
 
 Song Dr. Smollett. 1 2 9 
 
 Song Earl of Rochester. 119 
 
 Song Hill- 123 
 
 Smg //• Coleridge. 214 
 
 Song :/• Fletcher. 54 
 
 Song Laivson. 223 
 
 Song Leggett. 237 
 
 Song Loivell. 3 1 1 
 
 Song Mallet. 125 
 
 Song, Minstrel's Chatterton. 151 
 
 Song ^•^'■s- Osgood. 286 
 
 Song, Panglory's Wooing G. Fletcher. 65 
 
 Song Pinkney. 229 
 
 Song Pinkney. 230 
 
 Song P'''""'- '-^ 
 
 Si. 
 
% 
 
 34^ BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Song Proctor. 215 
 
 Song Proctor. 216 
 
 Song SJiellcy. 209 
 
 Song Shelley. 211 
 
 Song Sir E. L. Bukucr- Lytton. 249 
 
 Song Sir W. Scott. 166 
 
 Song Sir y. Suckling. 91 
 
 Song Ta\lur. 317 
 
 Song, The Mad Girl's , T. Dibdin. 16S 
 
 Song Thomas. 276 
 
 Song Thomson. 124. 
 
 Sonnet on Isabella Markham Harrington. 1 8 
 
 Sonnet Keats. 207 
 
 Sonnet Spenser. 23 
 
 Stanzas Holmes. 278 
 
 Star, The Evening Dr. Leydcn. 179 
 
 Summer Reminiscence, A Shepherd. 336 
 
 Summons to Love Drummond. 58 
 
 Supplication, A Coivley. 1 00 
 
 Supplication, A Sir T. Wyat. 11 
 
 "Take, oh, take those lips away" Shakspearc. yi 
 
 Tammy, My Boy M'Neill. 143 
 
 Tell me how to woo thee Graham (of Cartmore). 137 
 
 Tell me, my Heart Lord Lyttelton. 127 
 
 Tell me no more Bishop King. 7 1 
 
 Tell mc not, Sweet Lo'velace. 99 
 
 The Amulet Emerson. 245 
 
 The Annoyer JVillis. 259 
 
 The Banks o' Doon Burns. 159 
 
 The Braes of Yarrow Logan. 147 
 
 The Bride of the Chevalier J. E. Cooke. 324 
 
 The Confessional IFillis. 263 
 
 The Deposition Stanley. 1 1 8 
 
 " The Dew no more shall weep" Crashaiv. 94 
 
 The Dead Love Words-ivorth. 164 
 
 The Discovery Coivley. 1 02 
 
 3i 
 
INDEX OF SUBJECTS. 349 
 
 PACK 
 
 The Earl's Daughter Dr. English. 303 
 
 The Evening Star Dr. Lc\den. 179 
 
 The Farewell Hoffman. 256 
 
 The Flight of Love Shelley. 212 
 
 The Fugitive from Love Sargent. 297 
 
 The Hebrew Maid Lord Byron. 195 
 
 The Kiss : a Dialogue Herrick. 72 
 
 The Lost Love Wordiivorth. 163 
 
 The Lover's Vow Bishop Atterbury. I20 
 
 The Mad Girl's Song T. Dibdin. 16S 
 
 Tlks Message Donne. 50 
 
 Tile Nameless River Ide. 312 
 
 The Nightingale Bamrfuld. 43 
 
 The Njmph's Reply Raleigh. 21 
 
 The onehewould love Sir T. Wyat. 12 
 
 The Passionate Shepherd Marlozve. 20 
 
 The Picture of T. C. in a Prcsp-ct of Flowers Mar-vcl. 106 
 
 The Prohibition Donne. 51 
 
 The Quality oi a Kiss Drummond. 6c 
 
 "There is a Garden in her Face" Allison. 61 
 
 "There's nae Luck about the House" Micklc. 13: 
 
 The Resolve Broine. 104 
 
 The Shape alone Dr. Akenside. 131 
 
 The Sleeping Beauty Rogers. i6i 
 
 The Time I've lost Moore. 185 
 
 The Unchangeable Shakspeare. 42 
 
 The Waefu Heart A//ii Blamirc. 145 
 
 The Welcome Da-vis. 2S9 
 
 Thy Name Hoffman. 253 
 
 Time I've lost, The Moore. 185 
 
 To a Lady Griffin. 246 
 
 To a Lady Prentice. 247 
 
 "To all you Ladies" Earl cf Dorset. liz 
 
 To an Autumn Rose Hoffman. 252 
 
 T o A n n R'jckivcll. 257 
 
 To Anthea Herrick. 74 
 
 To Aurora Earl of Stirling. 57 
 
 30 
 
Ker 
 
 350 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 PAGK 
 
 To Cupid Cartiuright. 88 
 
 To D.lia Dauytll. 33 
 
 To Ddla Russell. 160 
 
 To Diancnie Ilcrrick. 75 
 
 To Elmira Liggett. 238 
 
 To Ermengardc Willis. 261 
 
 To Eva Emerson. 244 
 
 To her Ring Pattiswi. 126 
 
 To H , Pinkncy. 233 
 
 To my Wife Broinan. 322 
 
 To Poc. 283 
 
 True Love S/tahpente. 40 
 
 Unchangeable, Love Daivcs. 242 
 
 Unchangeable, The Shahspiarc. 42 
 
 Upon a Stolen Kiss Wither. 67 
 
 Vant', Florence P. P. Cooke. 295 
 
 Vow, A Ecirl of Surrey. 16 
 
 Vow, Tiic Lover's Bishop Attcrbury. 120 
 
 Wacfu' Hc.irt, The Miss Bbmi>c. 145 
 
 Waly, waly Arwuymcus. 86 
 
 Weary Lot is Thine, A Sir W. Scott. 165 
 
 Wedded Love Mrs. Diiinics. 280 
 
 Welcome, The Dat'is. 280 
 
 Welcome, welcome, do I sin^ Bro-wne. 68 
 
 '" When other Friends" Morris. 226 
 
 " When we two parted" Lord Byron. 193 
 
 " Whcie Hudson's wave" Morris. 225 
 
 Wife, To my Brcur.an. 322 
 
 Wishes for the supposed M'sticss Crashaiv. 95 
 
 Woman's Inconstancy Sir R. Aytoun. 47 
 
 Wooing Song, Panglory's G. Fletcher. 63 
 
 Yarrow, The Braes of. Logan. 1 4-" 
 
 «Ye Little Birds" HeyjLwod. 7- 
 
 "You meaner Beauties" Sir H. Wotton. 43 
 
INDEX OF FIRST LINES. 
 
 PAOB 
 
 Ae fond kiss, and then we sever 155 
 
 A face that should content ms wondrous well 12. 
 
 Afar I stood and listened 308 
 
 Again I sit within the mansion 318 
 
 Ah, Chloris ! could I now but sii 116 
 
 Ah ! how sweet it is to love 108 
 
 All thoughts, all passions, all delights 170 
 
 A lucky man is the Chevalier 324 
 
 Among thy fancies, tell me this 7a 
 
 As it fell upon a day 43 
 
 Ask me no more : the moon may draw the sea iSi 
 
 As lamps burn silent with unconscious light 123 
 
 A slumber did my spirit seal 164 
 
 A sword, whose blade has ne'er been wet 203 
 
 At Paris it was, at the opera there 330 
 
 Awake, awake, my Lyre! 100 
 
 A weary lot is thine, fair maid 165 
 
 Being your slave, what should I do but tend 41 
 
 Believe me, if all those endearing young charms 184 
 
 Believe not the slander, my dearest Katrine 287 
 
 Bending between me and the taper 293 
 
 Bid me to live, and I will live 74 
 
 Blest ornament! how happy is thy snare 126 
 
 Bright star ! would I were steadfast as thou crt 207 
 
 But are ye sure the news is true? 135 
 
 By Heaven, I'll tell her boldly that 'tis she 102 
 
 By the side of the broad blue sea 291 
 
 Cease, anxious world, your fruitless pain ill 
 
 Come in the evening, or come in the morning 289 
 
 Come live with me, and be my love 20 
 
 Come, rest in this bosom, my own stricken deer 183 
 
%' 
 
 352 BOOK OF nUlUES. 
 
 TAOB 
 
 Come, rouse tlur, d.nr.-st ! — 'tis net well 180 
 
 Come to me, de-rest, Vm lonely with ut tl.ei- 'ii 
 
 Come to me, lovej forget each sordid duty 268 
 
 Couldst thou look as dear as when 1S6 
 
 Cupid and my Campaspe played 25 
 
 Day, in melting purple dying 197 
 
 Dearest! do not thou delay me 54 
 
 Diapheni.i, like the dalfadnundilly 34 
 
 Drink to me only with thine eyes S3 
 
 Drink ye to her that each loves best 181 
 
 Faint streams the shimmer of the moon 309 
 
 Fair, sweet, and young, receive a prize 109 
 
 Fair Sylvia, cease to blame my youtli 120 
 
 Farewell ! if ever fondest prayer 192 
 
 Forever, Fortune, wilt thou prove -i 24 
 
 Forget not yet the tried intent 1 i 
 
 From the Desert I come to thee 315 
 
 From these high hills, as when a spring doth fall 13 
 
 Gin livin' worth could win my heart 145 
 
 Give me more love or more disdain 55 
 
 Give place, ye lovers, here before 15 
 
 Go, happy Rose, and, interwove 73 
 
 Go, lovely Rcse 83 
 
 Had I a heart for falsehood framed 150 
 
 Ha! ha! you think you've killed my fame loi 
 
 Here's a health to thee, Mary 216 
 
 He that loves a rosy cheek 56 
 
 Honest lover, whosoever 91 
 
 How may this little tablet feign 231 
 
 How sweet the answer Echo makes 188 
 
 How sweet thy modest light to view 179 
 
 I arise from dreams of Thee 2c8 
 
 I do confess thou'rt smooth and fair 48 
 
 It all the world and love were young 21 
 
 ij2 % 
 
w 
 
 INDEX OF FIRST LINES. 353 
 
 VAOF. 
 
 If doughty deeds my lady please 137 
 
 I fear thy kisses, gentle maiden 209 
 
 I fill this cup to one made up 217 
 
 If 'tis love to wish you near 140 
 
 If women could be fair, and yet not fond 19 
 
 I grieve, and dare not show my discontent 17 
 
 I hear no more the locust beat 336 
 
 I hear the dry-voiced insects call 334 
 
 I know not if the sunshine waste 261 
 
 I loved an ideal — I sought it in thee 286 
 
 I loved thee long and dearly 295 
 
 I loved thee once, I'll love no more 47 
 
 I need not name thy thrilling name 229 
 
 In the merry month of May 26 
 
 Into my heart a silent look 250 
 
 I saw thee once — once only — years ago 283 
 
 I saw thee weep— the big, bright tear 194 
 
 Is there but a single theme 297 
 
 It comes to me when healths go round 253 
 
 I think of thee when morning springs 247 
 
 I thought of the?, I thought of thee 263 
 
 I trust the frown thy features wear 237 
 
 I've wandered east, I've wandered west 218 
 
 I will love her no more — 'tis a waste of the heart 255 
 
 I wish I were where Helen lie- 84 
 
 I would not care to see thee — thou 303 
 
 John Anderson, my jo, John 154 
 
 Let me not to the marriage of true minds 4° 
 
 Lift up the curtains of thine eyes 311 
 
 Like target for the arrow's aim 246 
 
 Like the violet which, alone 80 
 
 Listen from the forest boughs 217 
 
 Look out upon the stars, my love 229 
 
 Love in my bosom, like a bee 28 
 
 Love is a sickness full of woes 32 
 
 Love is the blossom where there blows 63 
 
 Love knoweth every form of air 259 
 
 Love not, love not, ye hapless sons of clay 274 
 
 30* 
 
*i^ 
 
 ■3? 
 
 35+ BOOK OF I! (IB IKS. 
 
 I'AOK 
 
 Madam, as you pass us by 339 
 
 Maid of my love, sweit Genevieve 174 
 
 Merry Margaret 9 
 
 My dear and only love, I pray 89 
 
 My dear, good night ! the moon is down 302 
 
 My love and I for kisses played 79 
 
 My love is a lady of gentle line 215 
 
 My mother bids me bind my iiair 139 
 
 My true love hath my heart, and I have his 24 
 
 Not much for sordid golden dross I care 335 
 
 Now, azure as the crystal air 312 
 
 Now gentle sleep hath closed up those eyes 67 
 
 Of all the torments, all the cares 121 
 
 Of a' the airts the wind can blaw 158 
 
 Oh, fair and stately maid, whose eyes 244 
 
 Oh, fairest of tiie rural maids ! 199 
 
 Oh, forbear to bid me slight lier 123 
 
 Oh, waly, waly up the bank 86 
 
 Oh, yes — so well, so tenderly 187 
 
 O, if thou knew'st how thou tliyself dost harm 57 
 
 On a day, alack the day! , 39 
 
 O Nancy ! wilt thou go with me 133 
 
 One happy year has fled, Sail 201 
 
 One of her hands one of her cheeks lay under 38 
 
 O, never say that I was false of heart 42 
 
 One word is too often profaned 211 
 
 On this frail glass, to others' view 238 
 
 O sight too dearly bought |.. 60 
 
 O! sing unto my roundelay 151 
 
 O take me to your arms, love 168 
 
 Pack clouds away, and welcome day 76 
 
 Phoebus, arise ! 58 
 
 I'urc as a passion felt for stars 299 
 
 See with what simplicity 106 
 
 Si-nd home my long-strayed eyes to me 50 
 
 is ■ 2^- 
 
K 
 
 INDEX OF FJh'ST L/Mh'S. 355 
 
 Set me wliere as the sun doth parcli the green 14 
 
 Sliall I tell you whom I love 69 
 
 Shall I, wasting in despair 65 
 
 She dwelt among the untrodden ways 163 
 
 She is not fair to outward view 214 
 
 She walks in beauty, like the night 195 
 
 She was a phantom of delight i6z 
 
 Since there's no help, come, let us kiss and part -56 
 
 Sleep on, and dream of Heaven awhile 161 
 
 Sleep, sleep ! be thine the sleep that throws 240 
 
 Strange! that one lightly whispered tone zyX 
 
 Sweet, be not proud of those two eyes 75 
 
 Sweet is the woodbine's fragrant twine 175 
 
 Take heed of loving me 51 
 
 Take, oh, take those lips away 37 
 
 Tell her I love her — love her for those eyes 252 
 
 Tell me no more how fair she is 71 
 
 Tell me not of a fact; that's fair 104 
 
 Tell me not, sweet, I am unkind 99 
 
 That which her slender waist confined 82 
 
 The conflict is over, the struggle is past 2i;6 
 
 The dew no more shall weep 94 
 
 The firstlings of my simple song 233 
 
 The fountains mingle with the river 210 
 
 The kiss, with so much strife 62 
 
 The lark now leaves his watery nest 81 
 
 The laughing Hours before her feet 332 
 
 The merchant, to secure his treasure 122 
 
 The moon is mufHed in a cloud 321 
 
 The pines were dark on Ramoth hill 271 
 
 There be none of beauty's daughters 196 
 
 There is a garden in her face Ci 
 
 The rising moon has hid the stars 269 
 
 There's kames o' hinnie 'tween my luve's lips 189 
 
 The shape alone let others prize 131 
 
 The smiling morn, the breathing spring 125 
 
 The sun has gone down o'er the lofty Ben-Lomond 177 
 
 The time I've lost in wooing 185 
 
 iJ^t 
 
356 
 
 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 PARE 
 
 The violet loves a sunny bank 317 
 
 Though when I loved thee thou vvert fair 118 
 
 Thou wert as a lake that lieth 257 
 
 Thou, who didst never see the light 88 
 
 Thy braes were bonny, Yarrow stream 147 
 
 'Tis not a cheek that boasts the ruby's glow 160 
 
 'Tis said that absence conquers love 276 
 
 To all you ladies now at land iia 
 
 To fix her, 'twere a task as vain 129 
 
 Tune on, my pipe, the praises of my love 30 
 
 Unto the boundless ocean of thy beauty 33 
 
 Unwise, or most unfortunate 235 
 
 We break the glass, whose sacred wine 230 
 
 Welcome, welcome, do I sing 68 
 
 Were I as base as is the lowly plain 35 
 
 Whar hae ye been a' day 143 
 
 Whence comes my love ? O heart, disclose 18 
 
 When Delia on the plain appears 127 
 
 When I upon thy bosom lean 141 
 
 When other friends are round thee 226 
 
 When Spring, arrayed in flowers, Mary 223 
 
 When stars are in the quiet skies 249 
 
 When the lamp is shattered 212 
 
 When we two parted 193 
 
 Where Hudson's wave, o'er silvery sands 225 
 
 Where shall the lover rest 166 
 
 While on these lovely looks I gaze 119 
 
 Whoe'er she be 95 
 
 Who has robbed the ocean cave 182 
 
 Ye banks and braes, and streams around 156 
 
 Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon 159 
 
 Ye little birds that sit and sing 77 
 
 Yes ! still I love thee: — Time, who sets 242 
 
 Ye tradeful merchants! that with weary toil 23 
 
 You meaner beauties of the night 45 
 
 Your picture smiles as first it smiled 245 
 
IS 
 
 INDEX OF AUTHORS. 
 
 Akenside, Mark ...... Page 131 
 
 Dr. Akenside was born at Newcastle-on-Tyne, England, on November 
 9, 172,1, and was educated at the University of Edinburgh. He took 
 his degree of Doctor of Medicine at the University of Leyden, May 
 16, 1744. He was a Fellow of the Royal Society; Cambridge con- 
 ferred on him the degree of M. D. ; he became Physician to the 
 St. Thomas's Hospital, and afterwards to the Queen ; and was a 
 Fellow of the College of Physicians. He wrote numerous medical 
 essays, but is chiefly known as the author of the " Pleasures of the 
 Imagination." He died June 23, 1770. 
 
 Aldrich, Thomas Bailey . . . . '339 
 
 Thomas Bailey Aldrich was born at Portsmouth, in New Hampshire, 
 in 1836, and was educated for the mercantile profession. This he 
 has abandoned for general literature. He has published several books 
 of Tales and Poems, and is a contributor to the various magazines 
 and journals. 
 
 Allison, Richard . . . . . . 6i 
 
 Of Richard Allison we can learn nothing. The poem quoted is 
 taken from *' An Houre's Recre.uion in Musicke," 1606. 
 
 Anonymous ........ 84 
 
 There are tv-fo poems of unknown authorship in this collection. Of one 
 of these, " Helen of Kirkconnell," there are several versions. We have 
 selected that which we think to be the most correct. " Waly, waly !" 
 is more modern than the other poem ; and it has been assened to have 
 for its heroine Lady Barbara Erskine, wife of the second Marquis of 
 Douglass. The allusions in the second and fifth stanzas are not, how- 
 ever, consistent with the story of the Marchioness. Our version is from 
 the "Tea-table Miscellany," 1724. 
 
 Arnold, George . . • . . . . .334 
 
 George Arnold was born in the city of New York, on June 24, 1834, 
 and received his education at home, under the direction of his 
 parents, who were persons of refined and cultivated tastes. His boy- 
 hood was passed in Southern Illinois, but he returned to New York 
 
 ■Sf; 
 
K 
 
 ■r^ 
 
 L 
 
 358 BOOK OF nUBIES. 
 
 before arriving at manhood, and there engaged in literature, about 
 1856. He has been connected editorially with the press, and has 
 contributed largely to the journals and magazines, his productions 
 being principally poems, tales, and sketches of humorous or ideal 
 character. 
 
 Atterbury, Francis ..... Page 120 
 
 Francis Atterbury, Bishop of Rochester, was born at Newport-Pagnel, 
 in Buckinghamshire, England, on March 6, 1662, and was educated 
 at Christ Church College, Oxiord, where he took the degree of Mas- 
 ter of Arts, in 1687. He was appointed one of the chaplains-in- 
 ordinary to William and Mary. He early engaged in leligious con- 
 troversial literature, and one of his pamphlets on the High- Church 
 side provoked the ire of Burnet. The lower House of Convocation, 
 in whose beiialf he wrote, sent a commendatory letter to Oxford on 
 his behalf, which obtained for him the degree of Doctor of Divinity. 
 In 1700 he was made Archdeacon of Totncss, and was appointed by 
 ^ueen Anne, in 1702, one of her chaplains; in 1704, Dean of Car- 
 lisle; in 1707, Canon Residentiary of Exeter ; and in 1709, Preacher 
 of the Rolls Chapel. In 1710, he was unanimously chosen Prolocu- 
 tor of the lower House of Convocation. In 1712 he was made Dean 
 of Christ Church; and in 171 3, Bishop of Rochester, and Dean of 
 Westminster. In August, 1722., he was arrested and committed to 
 the Tower, on suspicion of being concerned in a plot in favor of the 
 Pretender. A bill of pains and penalties was passed in his case, May 
 27th, 1722-3; and on the i8th of June, he embarked on board the 
 Aldborough man-of-war, and was landed at Calais the I'riday follow- 
 ing. He resided at Paris until his death, which occurred February 
 17, 1731. 
 
 Aytoun, Sir Robert ...... 47 
 
 RonK.RT AvTouN was born at Fifeshire, Scotland, in 1590. He was 
 knighted, and made Gentleman of the Bedchamber by Charles the 
 First, and afterwards private secretary to the ^ueen. He died in 
 1638. 
 
 Barnefield, Richard ...... 43 
 
 Of Richard Barnefield little is known, except that his writings ap- 
 peared between 1594 and 1598. The poem wc have quoted from 
 him was for a U>ng time, and is fiequently still, erroneously attrib- 
 uted to Shakspcare. 
 
 Bird, Robert Montgomery ..... 240 
 
 Robert Montgomery Bird was born in 1803, and was educated at 
 Philadelphia, where he obtained the degree of Doctor of Medicine. 
 He is the author of numerous popular novels and plays. He died in 
 1854. 
 
INDEX OF AUTHORS. 359 
 
 Blamire, Susanna ..... Page 145 
 
 Susanna Blamire was a Scotchwoman, born in 1747, who w:ote sev- 
 eral very clever dialect poems. Siie died in i"]^)^. 
 
 Brennan, Joseph ..... . 322 
 
 JosKPH Brennan was born in the county Donegal, Ireland, on Novem- 
 ber 17, i8i8, but when a child was taken to the city of Cork, where 
 he received a rudimentary education at a private school, and was for 
 a short period at Maynooth College. In 1848 he left Cork for Dub- 
 lin. His writings there in the Irish Felon coming to the notice of 
 government, he was arrested and imprisoned. On his release he 
 edited for a time the Irishman. Engaged in a revolutionary attempt 
 in the county Waterford, which filled, he escaped to New York in 
 1849, where he became connected with the press. In 1851 he re- 
 moved to New Orleans, where he was a writer for the Delta for five 
 years. An attack of yellow fever in 1853 injured his eyes, and he 
 became nearly blind. He came North, and contributed to various 
 journals and magazines. In 1854 he returned to New Orleans. In 
 1857 he left the Delta, and started a daily paper, but died on the 
 27th of May of the same year, of consumption. 
 
 Breton, Nicholas ...... 26 
 
 Nicholas Breton was born in 1555, but in what part of England is 
 unknown He wrote tales and poems, one volume of these being 
 under the title of " The Works of a Young Wit." He died in 
 1624. 
 
 Brome, Alexander . . . . . .104 
 
 Alexander Brome was born in London in 1620, and was an attorney 
 of some repute for his satirical powers. He wrote several plays, and 
 a translation of Horace. He died in 1666. 
 
 Brooks, Maria . . . . . . .197 
 
 Maria Brooks, whose maiden name was Cowen, was born at Medford, 
 in Massachusetts, in 1795. She was married at an early age to Mr. 
 Brooks, a Boston merchant, who left her a widow, at the age of 
 twenty-eight. She then went to reside with a relative in the island 
 of Cuba, where she wrote her poem of " Zophiel," the first canto of 
 which was published in Boston, in 1825. This poem, which is now 
 out of print and almost forgotten, excited at the time no small degree 
 of sensation. Southey, in the Doctor, in speaking of its author, 
 styles her "the most impassioned and most imaginative of all poet- 
 esses." The poem, under Southcy's editorship, was published com- 
 plete in London, in 1833. She also wrote several minor poems, and 
 a prose romance. She died at Matanzas, November 11, 1845. 
 
 -% 
 
%■ 
 
 36o BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 Browne, William ..... Page 68 
 
 William Browne was born at Tavistock, in Devonshire, in 1590; 
 educated at Exeter College, Oxford; and then entered for the study 
 of law at the Inner Temple. In November, 1624, he was made 
 Master of Arts by Oxford. He is supposed to have died at Otter, in 
 Devonshire, during the winter of 1645. 
 
 Bryant, William Cullen . . . . .199 
 
 Wn.i.iAM Cullen Bryant was born at Cummington, in Massachusetts, 
 on November 3d, 1794. His earliest productions were translations 
 fri.m the Latin poets, published in the newspaper at Northampton 
 when he was ten years of age ; and " The Embargo," a political satire 
 directed at Jelferson, which appeared at Boston in 1808. He entered 
 Williams College at sixteen years of age, but only remained two 
 years, leaving in order to enter on the profession of the law, having 
 been called to the bar in 1815. His poem of " Thanatopsis" ap- 
 peared in 18 I 6, but was said to iiave been written three years before. 
 He abandoned the law for literature, and went to New Sf'ork, where 
 he has since resided. He took editorial charge of the E-vctiin^ Post 
 in 1S26, and has maintained his position in that paper up to the 
 present time. 
 
 Bulwer-Lytton, Sir Edward Lytton . . , 249 
 
 Sir Edward Lytton Bulweh-Lvtton, the well-known novelist, was 
 born in Norfolk, England, in 1805, and received his education at 
 Cambridge. He has been long a member of Parliament, and is promi- 
 nent in the politics of Great Britain. He has published, in poetry, 
 " The New Timon," a not very successful satire ; one or two volumes 
 of miscellaneous poems, and several plays, most of which hold pos- 
 session of the stage. 
 
 Bulwer-Lytton, Edward Robert . . . .330 
 
 EiiwARD Robert Bulwer-Lytton, the son of the novelist, Bulwer- 
 Lytton, was born in 1831. He is in training as a diplomatist and 
 statesman, and usually writes under the name of " Owen Meredith." 
 
 Burleigh, William H. . . . . . .287 
 
 William H. Burleigh was born at Woodstock, Connecticut, on Feb- 
 ruary 2d, 1812, and was taught the art of printing. He soon en- 
 tered upon editorial duties, and has been connected with a number 
 of journals as editor and contributor. He has also studied law, and 
 is known as a leading "reformer." 
 
 Burn?, Ronr.RT ....... 1 
 
 54 
 
 RoiiKR-r iiuRNS was born in Ayrshire, Scotland, on January 25, 1759. 
 From the obscurest station he rose to be the poet of his native land. 
 
'-"^ 
 
 k 
 
 INDEX OF AUTHORS. 361 
 
 and to have a hold on the affections of his people the most enduring. 
 During his life, however, his abilities brought him no more than a 
 bare competence. He died on July az, 1796. 
 
 Byron, George Gordon, Baron . . . Page 192 
 
 LoKD Byron was born in London, on January 22, 1788, and educated 
 at Trinity Culltgc, C-inibridge. In 1807 lie published his juvenile 
 poems, under the title of " Hours of Idleness." A sharp and tausti(f, 
 but not altogetlier unjust notice of these, in the Edinburgh Rc-viciv, 
 excited the anger of the author, and the consequence was " English 
 Bards and Scotch Reviewers," which appeared in 1809. He trav- 
 elled over Europe, and on his return publislicd the first part of" Childe 
 Harold's Pilgrimage," which at once made him famous. After the 
 publication of various and numerous poems, and passing a troubled 
 and stormy life, he died on April 19, 1824, at Missolonghi, Greece, 
 whither he had gone to assist the Greeks in their struggle for inde- 
 pendence. 
 Campbell, Thomas . . . . • .181 
 
 Thomas Campbell was born in Gla'igow, Scotland, on July 27, 1777, 
 and was educated at the University of Glasgow, of which he was after- 
 wards thrice annually elected Lord Rector. During his life he was 
 editor of Colburn's Monthly Maga%\nc, and also of the Metropolitan 
 Magazine. He was also the originator of the University of London, 
 and the author of various prose works, more or less popular. He died 
 on the 8th of June, 1844. His chiefest poem, "The Pleasures of 
 Hope," was in its time overrated. It is impossible to overrate some 
 of his lyrics. They are, and will probably continue to be, master- 
 pieces of their kind. 
 
 Carew, Thomas . . . . • • • 55 
 
 Thomas Carew was born— the year is not certain— in Gloucestershire, 
 and educated at Corpus Christi College, Oxford. He was made 
 Gentleman of the Privy Chamber, and Server in Ordinary to King 
 Charles the First, and died about 1639. 
 
 Cartwright, William . . . • • • °° 
 
 Wjlliam Cartwright was born at Cirencester, in England, in 161 1. 
 He was ordained, and received, in 1642, an appointment in the 
 church of Salisbury. In 1643 he was Junior Proctor, and Reader 
 in Metaphysics, at Oxford. He died that year, of malignant fever. 
 An edition of his " Comedies, tragi-Comedies, and other Poems," 
 was published in 1647, and again in 1 65 1. 
 
 Chatterton, Thomas . . . • • • ^5' 
 
 Thomas Chatterton was born at Bristol, England, November 20, 
 
 175a, and had an imperfect education at Colston's Charity School. 
 
 31 
 
 ^. 
 
362 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 He commenced to write both poetry and prose when a little over 
 eleven years of age. He was bound apprentice to an attorney, July 
 1st, 1767. In 1768, on the occasion of finishing the new bridge at 
 Bristol, there appeared, in Felix Farley's Bristol 'Journal, an account 
 of the ceremonies on opening the old bridge, purporting to be from 
 an ancient MS. This was traced to Chatterton. He pretended that 
 this and other manuscripts were found in Mr. Canynge's coffer, an 
 old chest kept over the north porch of Redcliffe church. From 
 time to time he produced a series of poems, purporting to come from 
 this source, all of which were forgeries. In 1770 he left the service 
 of Lambert, the attorney, and went to London. After struggling 
 there in various ways, he committed suicide, August 24, 1770. 
 
 Clapp, Henry (the younger) .... Page 291 
 Henry Clapp, Jr., was born in Newburyport, Massachusetts, in 1 8 14. 
 With the particulars of his life we are not acqu.iinted. He has 
 been before the public, as author and lecturer, for many years j and, 
 connected at times with most of the leading journals, and a constant 
 contributor to the abler magazines, he has left a deep mark upon the 
 literature of the country. He is at present the dramatic critic of a 
 New York weekly of large circulation and strong influence. 
 
 Coleridge, Hartley . . . . . .214 
 
 Hartley Coleridge, the eldest son of the famous poet, was born at 
 Clevedon, near Bristol, on September 19, 1796, and was educated at 
 Merton College, Cambridge. He afterwards became a Fellow of 
 Oriel College. The Fellowship he forfeited in a year by intemper- 
 ance. He went to London, where lie became a popular contributor 
 to the various journals and magazines. He died January 6, 1849. 
 
 Coleridge, Samuel Taylor . . . . .170 
 
 Samuel Taylor Coleridge was born at Ottery St. Mary, in Devon- 
 shire, England, October 21, 1772, and educated at Christ's Hospital, 
 and at Jesus College, Cambridge. He engaged in literature, travelled 
 for a while in Europe, wrote for the daily press, and published a 
 number of works on various subjects. He was one of tlie ten Royal 
 Associates selected at the incorporation of the Royal Society of Liter- 
 ature in 1825. He died July 25, 1834. 
 
 Constable, Henry . . . . . . 34 
 
 Of Henry Constable little is known, except that he was contemporary 
 with Nicholas Breton. The date of his birth and death cannot be cer- 
 tainly ascertained. 
 
 Cooke, John Esten ...... 324 
 
 John Esten Cooke, the brother of the author of " Florence Vane," v/as 
 born in Winchester, Frederic county, in Virginia, November 3, 1S30. 
 
 ^ 
 
 tL 
 
1^ 
 
 INDEX OF A U Til US. 363 
 
 He v/as admitted to the bar, and divided his time between law and liter- 
 ature. He is the author of numerous successful novels — the first of 
 which, " Leather Stocking and Silk," appeared in 1853, followed by 
 " The Virginian ComeJians" in the following year; " The Ycuth of 
 JeSerson," " Ellie, or the Human Comedy," " Greenway Court," and 
 " Henry St. John, Gentleman, of the Flov/er of Hundreds." 
 
 Cooke, Philip Pendleton .... Page 295 
 
 Philip Pendleton Cooke was born at the Stone House, Martinsburg, in 
 Virginia, O:tober 26th, 18 16, and received his education at Princeton 
 College, New Jersey. He returned to Virginia to live the life of a 
 country gentleman, dabbling in literature as an amusement alone. He 
 wrote both tales and poems, all displaying extraordinary ability ; and in 
 1847 published his " Froissart Ballads." He died in January, 1850. 
 
 Cowley, Abraham . . . . . .100 
 
 Abraham Cowley was born in London in 161 8, and educated at West- 
 minster School, and at Cambridge and Oxford. He v/as appointed 
 Secretary to the Earl of St. Albans, and went with him to the Conti- 
 nent, returning thence in 1656. In 1657 he received the degree of 
 Doctor of Medicine at Oxford. He returned to France on the death 
 of Cromwell, and remained there until the Restoration. He died at 
 the Porch House, Chertsey, in Surrey, in 1667. 
 
 Cr.a,sha\v, Richard ...... 94 
 
 Richard Crashaw v/as educated at Cambridge, where he became a Fellow, 
 but in 1644. he was ejected from his Fellowship by the Earl of filan- 
 chester, under authority of Parliament, for refusing to subscribe to the 
 Covenant. He afterwards went abroad, and embraced the Roman 
 Ccthoiic religion. He became Secretary to a Cardinal at R.ome, and 
 obtained the office of Canon in the church at Loretto, in 1650, where 
 he shortly afterwards died. His poems were first printed by Tho.mas 
 Car, in 1 646, during Crashaw's exile. 
 
 Cunningham, Allan . . . . . .189 
 
 Allan Cunningham was born at Blackwood, on Kithside, December 7th, 
 1784. He was taken from school at eleven years of age, to be made a 
 mason, and became a good workman ; but his literary taste led him to 
 London in 18 10, where, in 18 14, he became superintendent of the 
 sculptor Chantrey's studio. He wrcte several works that survive. He 
 died in 1842. 
 
 Danyell, Samuel . . . . . . 32 
 
 Samuel Danyell, the son of a teacher of music, was born near Taunton, 
 in Somersetshire, in 1561, and received his education at Magdalen Hall, 
 Oxford. He was patronized by the Countess of Pembroke, and others 
 of the nobility, particularly the Earl of Southampton j and had the 
 
 i^ 
 
r -Tfi 
 
 364 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 manliness to address a laudatory poem to the latter upon his downfall. 
 He was made Gentleman Extraordinary to King James, and afterwards 
 Groom of the Privy Chamber to the Queen. He died on his farm at 
 Beckington, in Somersetshire, in October, 1619. His wife was Justina, 
 the sister of John Florio, the author of an Italian Dictionary celebrated 
 in its day. 
 
 Davenant, Sir William .... Page 81 
 
 Sir William Davenant, the son of a vintner, who kept the Crown Inn 
 at Oxford, was born in the latter part of February, 1 605-6. He was 
 educated partly at Lincoln College, Oxford, but took no degree. Early 
 in life he became a page of the Duchess of Richmond, but losing this 
 place, turned his attention to literature, and became a successful drama- 
 tist. This secured him the patronage and influence of the Earl of Dorset 
 and others, and he succeeded Jonson as Poet Laureate, in 1638. Ac- 
 cused to the Parliament of endeavoring to weaken its authority over the 
 army, he v,fas arrested, and, though bailed, was obliged to leave for 
 France. He returned, and was appointed Lieutenant-general of Ord- 
 nance to the Marquis of Nev/castle ; and for his conduct at the siege of 
 Gloucester, in 16^.3, was knighted by the King. He went into exile in 
 France before the failure of the Royal cause. In 1650, at the instance 
 of the Queen, he set sail for Virginia, but was taken by a Parliamentary 
 ship, and sent prisoner to the Isle of Wight. From thence he was 
 removed to the Tower, but his life was saved by powerful private inter- 
 position — some say by John Milton. If so, he returned the fivor, for 
 it was owing to his influence that Milton was saved at the Restoration. 
 On the return of the King, Davenant devoted himself principally to 
 dramatic affairs. He died at Lincoln's-Inn-Fields, on April 7th, 1668. 
 
 Davis, Thomas Osborne ..... 289 
 
 Thomas Osborne Davis was born at Mallow, in the county of Cork, Ire- 
 land, in the year 18 14, and was educated at Trinity College, Dublin. 
 It was not until he was nearly thirty years of age that he appeared as a 
 poet. The political events of the day, and the necessity of national 
 poetry in the Nation, the journal under his editorial care, brought forth 
 a series of poems, filled with fire, pathos, and energy, though without 
 the perfect skill of the artist. He died September 16, 1845. 
 
 Dawes, Rufus ....... 242 
 
 RuFus Dawes was born in Boston, January 26, 1S03 j and after a partial 
 education at Harvard College, entered upon the study of the law, and was 
 admitted to the bar. He has, however, made literature, to a certain ex- 
 tent, his profession — certainly his pursuit. He died Nov. 30th, 1859. 
 
 Dermody, Thomas . . . . . .175 
 
 Thomas Dermody was born at Ennis, in the county Clare, Ireland, in 
 1774. He went to Dublin when a boy, and entered the service of a 
 
 •te— ■d. 
 
v^ 
 
 INDEX OF AUTHORS. 365 
 
 bookseller. While there, his writings attracted the attention of persons 
 of condition, and he was patronized by the Countess of Moira, who 
 placed him under the tuition of the Rev. Hugh Boyd. At the age of 
 fifteen he produced a volume of poems, which were promising. But he 
 grew precociously dissipated and reckl.ss, and was soon abandoned by his 
 new friends. He died July 15, 1802, at Sydenham Common, and was 
 buried at Lewisham, where Sir James Bland Burgess gave him a 
 monument. 
 
 DiBDiN, Charles ...... Page 140 
 
 Charles Dibdin v/as born at Southampton, England, in 1745, and ap- 
 peared as an actor in 1762, firstly in the provinces, and afterwards at 
 London. He wrote successful plays, and over twelve hundred songs, to 
 most of which he set the music. He died in 18 14. 
 
 Dibdin, Thomas . . . . . . .168 
 
 Thomas Dibdin, son of Charles, the sailor bard, was born in London, in 
 1771. He was apprenticed to an upholsterer from his sixteenth to his 
 twentieth year. H- then joined a troop of strolling players; and after- 
 wards wrote successfully for the stage during many years. Some of his 
 pieces arc still_ occasionally played. He died on September i 6th, 1841. 
 
 DiNNiES, Anne Peyre ...... 280 
 
 Anne P. Shackleford was born at Charleston, South Carolina, in 1810. 
 In 1830 she was married to John C. Dinnics, of St. Louis. She has 
 published a collection of her poems, under the title of "The Floral 
 Year." 
 
 DoNNE, John ....... 5*^ 
 
 John Donne, the son of an eminent merchant of Welsh descent, was born 
 in London, in 1573, and was educated partly at Oxford, and partly at 
 Trinity College, Cimbridgc. He v.'.is with the Earl of Essex in his 
 expedition against Cadiz j and travelled for some years in the south of 
 Europe. On his leturn to England he viA'i made Secretary to Sir Tho- 
 mas Egerton, Lord Keeper of the Great Seal. He made a stolen match, 
 in 1602, with Anna, daughter of Sir George Moore, Chancellor of the 
 Garter. This involved the loss of his position, imprisonment, and a 
 tedious and ruinous lav/suit. By the interposition of powerful friends, a 
 reconciliation between himself and his father-in-law was finally effected. 
 He was afterwards made a Master of Arts by both Oxford and Cam- 
 bridge. About 1 61 1 he entered into holy ordtrs, and filled various 
 clerical positions respectably. He died on March 31st, 1631, of con- 
 sumption. His poems were first printed complete in one volume by 
 Tonson, 1719. 
 Dorset, Charles Sackville, Earl of . . . 112 
 
 Charles Sackville, Lord Buckhurst, was bom January 24, 1637, and 
 educated privately. He was chosen member of Parliament for East 
 
 31* 
 
?s S 
 
 366 BOOK OF EUBIES. 
 
 Grinsted, immediately after the Restoration, and became one of the 
 favorites of Charles the Second. In 1665, he was at sea during the 
 sea-fight wherein the Dutch admiral, Opdam, was blown up, and 
 thirty ships of the enemy taken and destroyed. It was just previous 
 to this engagement that his celebrated song, " To all you Ladies," 
 is said to have been composed. He was then made Gentleman of 
 the Bedchamber; and, in 1675, created Earl of Middlesex, having 
 previously inherited the former Earl's fortune. In 1 667, on the 
 death of his father, he became Earl of Dorset. He opposed the course 
 of James the Second, and voted for an acknowledgment of the claims 
 of the Prince and Princess of Orange. He became a favorite with 
 William the Third, who made him Lord Chamberlain of the House- 
 hold, and, in I 69 1, Knight of the Garter. During the absence of 
 the King, he was four times placed on the Regency. He died 
 January 19th, 1705-6. 
 
 Drake, Joseph Rodman .... Page 201 
 
 Dr. Drake was born in New York, on August 7th, 1795. He received 
 his education at Columbia College, and chose the practice of medicine 
 as a profession. He died of consumption, in September, 1820. He 
 gave great promise, not so much in his "Culprit Fay," or "Ameri- 
 can Flag," his popular efforts, as in other minor pieces, which dis- 
 played pathos, tenderness, and force, in a great degree. 
 
 Drayton, Michael ...... 36 
 
 Michael Drayton was born at Atherston, in Leicestershire about 1563. 
 He was the son of a respectable butcher. Though a student for a 
 time at Oxford, it is thought that he completed his education at Cam- 
 bridge, under the patronage of Henry Goodere, and others. He was 
 one of the esquires attending Sir Walter Aston, when the latter was 
 created Knight of the Bath, but docs not seem to have attained court 
 preferment. He died in 1631. His " Poly-Olbion" is a singular and 
 remarkable production. His " Nymphidia" is considered by many to 
 be masterly throughout. His " Ballad of Agincourt" is exceedingly 
 spirited. 
 
 Drummond, William ...... 58 
 
 William Drummond was born at Hawthornden, Mid-Lothian, on 
 December 13th, 1585. He was the son of Sir John Drummond, and 
 was educated at the University of Edinburgh, where he received the 
 degree of Master of Arts. He studied the civil law at Bruges, in 
 France, and in 161 1 returned to Scotland. He soon abandoned the 
 profession of law for the charms of the Muses. Losing the lady of 
 his love by death, a short while before the day fixed for their mar- 
 riage, he at once went abroad again, and travelled over Europe during 
 eight years. In 1630 he married Elizabeth Logan, in whom he saw 
 a resemblance to his first love, to whose memory he had remained 
 
 is 2^. 
 
INDEX OF AUTHORS. 367 
 
 faithful. He died December 4th, 1649. In addition to his Poems, 
 he wrote a History of the Five Jameses, folio, first printed in London, 
 in 1655. His complete works were first published at Edinburgh, by 
 Watson, in 171 1. 
 
 Dryden, John Page 108 
 
 John Drvden was born on the 9th of August, 1 631, at Aldwinckle, in 
 Northamptonshire, England, and educated firstly at Westminster, and 
 then at Cambridge. He entered upon his literary career early, and 
 soon became involved in politics, wherein his course was erratic and 
 censurable. His works are numerous, and he is considered as one of 
 the greatest of English poets. He died on May ist, 1700, and was 
 buried in Westminster Abbey, where a monument was erected to his 
 memory by the Duke of Buckingham. 
 
 Embury, Emma C. ....•• 208 
 
 Emma C. Manley was born in New York, in 1807, and is the wife of 
 Mr. Daniel Embury, of Brooklyn. She has published several volumes 
 of poems. 
 
 Emerson, Ralph Waldo ..... 244 
 
 Ralph W. Emekson was born in Boston, Massachusetts, in 1803, and 
 educated at Harvard College. In 1829 he was ordained, but aban- 
 doned the pulpit, in consequence of a change of religious views. He 
 is known better as a writer of the " Dial" school, which he Peads, than 
 as a poet. 
 
 England, Elizabeth Tudor, Oueen of . . . 17 
 
 Elizabeth Tudor, afterwards famous as " the Virgin Queen," was born 
 September 7, 1533, and ascended the throne in 1558. She was able, 
 brilliant, vain, and cruel ; advancing the power of the realrn, and ad- 
 ministering public affairs with credit and success. She died March 
 24, 1603. 
 
 English, Thomas Dunn 3°^ 
 
 Thomas Dunn English was born at Philadelphia, on June 29th, 18 19. 
 He received the degree of Doctor of Medicine from the University of 
 Pennsylvania in 1839, and was called to the bar in 1842. He has 
 written novels, poems, plays, and miscellaneous works. His ballad 
 « Ben Bolt," and his Revolutionary Ballads, most of which last weie 
 published in Harper's Muga-zitie, are best known. ^ He has also min- 
 gled in politics, but has held no official position, with the exception of 
 having served two terms recently in the New Jersey Legislature. He 
 is connected with two New York journals, as editor. 
 
 Etherege, Sir George . . . • • .111 
 
 Sir George Etherege was born near London, about 1636, and educated 
 
 ^.X 
 
K 
 
 368 
 
 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 at Cambridge. He travelled awhile in Europe, and studied law, but 
 forsook that profession for literature. In 1664 he published a success- 
 ful comedy — "The Comical Revenge, or Love in a Tub;" in 1668, 
 "She Would if She Could;" and in 1676, "The Man of Mode." 
 He died after 1688, but the exact year is uncertain. 
 
 Fletcher, Giles ...... Page 63 
 
 Giles Fletcher vifas born about 1588. He was the younger brother of 
 Phineas Fletcher, the author of "The Purple Island," the son of Giles 
 Fletcher, author of "The Russe Commonwealth," and cousin of John 
 Fletcher, the dramatist. He was educated at Trinity College, Cam- 
 bridge, and took orders. He was incumbent for a while of the living 
 of Ald^;rton, in Suffolk, where he died in 1623. 
 
 Fletcher, John ........ 54 
 
 John Fletcher, the coadjutor of Beaumont, was born in Northampton- 
 shire, England, in 1576, and educated at Cambridge. He died of the 
 plague, in i 625. 
 
 Graham, of Cartmore . . . . . -137 
 
 This Graham was a Scotchman, who was born in 1735, ^""^ ^^^^ '" 
 1797. Beyond this, little is known of him. 
 
 Greene, Robert ....... 30 
 
 Robert Greene was born at Norwich, in 1560 (but some writers fix 
 the date ten years previously), and was educated at St. John's College, 
 Cambridge. He travelled on the Continent; and after his return, in 
 1583, received the degree of Master of Arts from Cambridge. He 
 wrote stories, treatises, and poems, attaining fair success in each depart- 
 ment of literature. He died on September 3d, 1592. 
 
 Griffin, Edmund Dorr ...... 246 
 
 Edmund Dorr Griffin was born in Wyoming, Pennsylvania, September 
 loth, 1804, and was educated at Columbia College, New York. He 
 was ordained deacon in 1S26; travelled in Europe from 1S28 to 1830, 
 when, on returning, he was appointed to a professorship in Columbia 
 College, which he soon resigned on account of his ill health. He died 
 on September ist, 1830. 
 
 Habington, William ...... 80 
 
 William Habington, who is called by Wood " a very accomplished 
 gentleman," was born at Hendlip, in Worcestershire, in 1605, and 
 educated at St. Omers and Paris. He died on November 30th, 1654, 
 
 Halleck, Fitz-Greene ...... 203 
 
 Fitz-Greene Halleck was born at Guilford, in Connecticut, in August, 
 1795; but removed, when eighteen years old, to New York, which 
 
INDEX OF AUTHORS. 369 
 
 has since been his residence. His lyrics, " Marco Bozzaris," " Burns," 
 and " Red Jacket," are well Icnown, and on these mainly his pretensions 
 rest. His works were first published in 182.7, a more complete edition 
 in 1836, and another in 1847. 
 
 Harrington, John ..... Page 18 
 
 John Harrington was born in 1534-, but in what part of England is un- 
 known. He was imprisoned in the Tower on account of a correspond- 
 ence with the Princess Elizabeth, who rewarded him for his fidelity, on 
 her accession to the throne. He died in 1582. 
 
 Hayne, Paul H. . . . . . . -332 
 
 Paul H. Hayne was born in Charleston, South Carolina, in 1831. He 
 has been for some time connected with the press, and has contributed 
 to several of the magazines. His collected works were published in 
 1855. 
 
 Herrick, Robert . . . . . . . 72 
 
 Robert Herrick was born at Cheapside, London, in 1591, and educated 
 at Cambridge. He took orders, and became Vicar of Dean Prior, in 
 Devonshire. He lost his living by the civil war, but regained it on 
 the Restoration. He was probably near eighty when he died, but the 
 year of his death is not fixed. 
 
 Heywood, Thomas ...... j6 
 
 Little is known of Heywood, except that he was a good linguist, and 
 wrote 220 plays, of which twenty-f jur are now extant. He wrote 
 from 1596 tJ 1640, and probably died during the latter year, or the 
 year after. 
 
 Hill, Aaron . . . . . . .123 
 
 Aaron Hill was born in the Strand, London, on February loth, 1684-5. 
 When a boy he went on a visit to his relative, Lord Paget, then Am- 
 bassador at Constantinople. The latter gave the young adventurer a 
 tutor ; and after travelling with him over Europe, brought him home 
 in 171 3. Young Hill travelled afterwards as a tutor in Europe; and 
 returning home, became the manager of a theatre, wrote several suc- 
 cessful plays, and engaged in various speculations, mostly unsuccessful. 
 He died February 8th, 1749-50. He was a voluminous writer, and 
 by some of his cotemporaries was placed above Pope. His writings 
 are now as unjustly obscure, as they were formerly undeservedly pre- 
 eminent. 
 
 Hoffman, Charles Fenno . . . . .252 
 
 Charles Fenno Hoffman was born in New York, in 1806, and was 
 educated at Columbia College, New York, where he received a Mas- 
 ter's degree. He was admitted to the bar three years after leaving 
 
 M- 
 
K 
 
 370 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 college, but abandoned law for literatuie. He was the author of 
 several popular novels; and a complete collection ot" his pcems was 
 publi:,hed in 1S45. 
 
 Holmes, Oliver Wendell .... Page 278 
 
 Oliver Wendell Holmes was born August 29th, 1809, at Cambridge, 
 M.issachusetts, and was educated at Harvard College. He received 
 the degree of Doctor of Medicine in 1836. In 1838 he was made 
 Professor of Anatomy and Physiology at Dartmouth Medical College; 
 and in 1847, Parkman Professor of Anatomy and Physiology at Har- 
 vard. In addition to his poems, he has published successful books of 
 essays, and several medical works. He is one of the constant contrib 
 utors to the Atlantic Monthly. 
 
 Hunter, Anne . . . . . . .13^ 
 
 Anne Home, who was a sister of Sir Everard Home, was born in 1742, 
 and was known in her day as the author of several clever poems. She 
 manieJ the celebrated surgeon. Hunter. She died in London, in 1821. 
 
 Ide,A. M 312 
 
 Mr. Ide is the editor of the Taunton Ga'zettt, and was born in Massachu- 
 setts, in 1825. He has written pcems for various periodicals, and 
 managed his journal with ability. He was at one time postmaster 
 of his town. 
 
 Jonson, Ben ........ 53 
 
 Ben JoNSiiN (" O rare Ben Jonson 1" as his tombstone has it) was born in 
 Warwickshire, on June 11th, 1574. Ai'ter re(.eiving a partial educa- 
 tion at the College School of Westminster, he was removed by his 
 stepfather, and made to work at the latter's trade, which was that of 
 a bricklayer. He ultimately entered at Cambridge, where he did not 
 long remain, but became an actor and writer of plays. He served also 
 for a while as a soldier in the Low Countries. In 1598, the success 
 of "Every Man in his Humour" decided his care-r. In 1619, Oxford 
 made him a Master of Arts; and en the death of Danyell, he was 
 created Poet Laureate. He died in London, on August 6th, 1637. 
 His works are voluminous. 
 
 Keats, John ....... 207 
 
 John Keats was born at Moorfields, London, in 1796, and was appren- 
 ticed to a surgeon, at an early age. Evincing literary talent, he was 
 introduced, by the gentleman who had been his schoolmaster, to Leigh 
 Hunt, who brought iiim before the public. A volume of his poems 
 was isiued in 1817, and after this "Endymion" appeared. The savage 
 attack upon this by the ^artcrly Rciiciu was said to have brought on 
 his death ; but this was an error. He published a third volume after- 
 wards, containing some clever eftusions. He died at Rome, whither he 
 had gone on account of ill health, on February 24th, 1S21. 
 
INDEX OF AUTHORS. 371 
 
 King, Hf.nry, Bishop of Chichester. . . Page 71 
 
 Henry King was born in 1591, and was educated at Christ Church 
 C:illegc, Oxford, where he took his degree of A. M. He was appointed 
 Chaplain to James the First, and in 1638 was made Dean of Rochester. 
 In 1 641 he was create! Bishop of Chichester. He died in 1669. He 
 was author of several volumes of Sermons, a Poetic Version of the 
 Psr.lms, and a volume of Poems. 
 
 Lapraik, John . . . . . . .141 
 
 John Lapraik's time of birth is not certain, but it was somewhere be- 
 tween 1738 and 1742. He met with misfortunes by the failure of 
 the Ayr Bank, v/iiich forced him to sell hii prope.ty nc'ar Muiikirk. 
 It was during this time of trouble that he composed his Song, "Matri- 
 monial H-appiness." Lapraik was the friend and correspondent of 
 Burns, and died in 1807. 
 
 Lawson, James ....... 223 
 
 James Lawson was born November 9, 1799, in Glasgow, Scotland, and 
 educated at the University of his native city. He came to this country 
 in 1815, and entered h:s uncle's counting-house. He was successful 
 for a time as a merchant, but the failure of the house with which he 
 was connected drove him into literature as a profession. He was for 
 many years connected with the press of New York, and was a frctjucnt 
 contributor to the leading magazines. 
 
 Leggett, William . . - . . .237 
 
 William Leggett was born in New York, in the si:n-irrcr of jSo;, and 
 was educated at Georgetown College. He ent:^red the navy in 1^22, 
 but retired from the service in 1826, and asiumed the profession of 
 letters. He wrote poems, tales, and sketches, all vvitli more than 
 average ability, and finally became a:s.ciated with Bryant in the 
 management of the E'vcning Post. This he left ibr a journal of his 
 own. The Plaindealcr, which attained reputation, but was not profitable. 
 He was appointed a diplomatic agent to Guatemala, in 1840, but died 
 before he could set out on his mission, on ?vl iv 29th of the same year. 
 
 Leydcn, John . . . . . . .179 
 
 John Leyden was born at Denholm, in Roxburghshire, Scotland, on 
 September 8th, 1775, and educated at the University of Edinburgh. 
 He took orders in the Presbyterian Church, but failed as a preacher. 
 He then commenced the study of medicine, and was made an assi-itant- 
 surgcon in the East India Company's service, in 1802. While in 
 India he was promoted to the grade of surgeon ; then made Profcisor 
 of Hindustani in Fort William College; next, the Juige of the Twen- 
 ty-four Pargunnahs of Calcutta; and, in 1810, was appcintei As^ay- 
 master of the Calcutta Mint. He accompanied Lord Minto in his ex- 
 pedition against Java, and died there, August 28th, 1816. 
 
 :% 
 
7*? 
 
 372 BOOK OF RUBLES. 
 
 Lodge, Thomas ...... Page 28 
 
 The year of Lodge's birth, set down as 1556, is not certainly known, but 
 he was educated at Trinity College', Oxford, where he became servitor 
 in 1573. He was a student at law at Lincoln's Inn in 1584, then be- 
 came an actor, and at length, after studying medicine on the Continent, 
 took his Doctor's degree at Avignon. He wrote various novels, plays, 
 and miscellaneous productions, and died in 1625, at London, of the 
 plague, while engaged in the practice of medicine. 
 
 Logan, John ....... 147 
 
 John Logan was born at Soutra, in Mid-Lothian, Scotland, about 1748, 
 and was educated at the University of Edinburgh. He was private 
 tutor to Mr., afterward Sir John Sinclair. His tragedy of " Runni- 
 iTiede," refused license by the Chamberlain, was brought out in Edin- 
 burgh in 1784. He was ordained minister of South Leith in 1773, 
 but left that position in 1786, and went to London. He died Dcceaji- 
 ber 28th, 1788. 
 
 Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth .... 269 
 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was born at Portland, Maine, February 
 a7th, 1807, and was educated at Bowdoin College. He was made 
 Professor of Modern Languages in Bowdoin, in 1826, and travelled 
 over Europe for nearly fcur years, to fit himself for his professorship. 
 In 1835 he succeeded Mr. Ticknor as Professor of Modern Languages 
 and Literature in Harvard College, which he held for a number of 
 years. After a few years he resigned, and was succeeded by LoweU. 
 Besides poems, he has written novels, travels, and reviews, and attained 
 a high reputation as the head of the American poets. 
 
 Lovelace, Richard ...... 99 
 
 Richard Lovelace was born at Walbridge, in Kent, England, in 161 8, 
 and educated at Oxford. He was imprisoned and banished for his 
 attachment to the Royal cause ; and, while absent, commanded a regi- 
 ment in tile French army. In this service he was wounded, and re- 
 turned to England, where he was imprisoned again, but at length 
 released. During his absence, the lady to whom he addressed his love 
 poems — his "Lucasta" and "Althea," — believing him to have been 
 killed, married another. He died in London, in want, during 1658. 
 
 Lowell, James Russell . . . . . .311 
 
 James Russell Lowell was born at Boston, in 1819, was educated at 
 Harvard College, and afterwards admitted to the bar. He is at present 
 a Professor at Cambridge, Massachusetts, and is a constant contributor 
 to the Atlantic Monthly. 
 
 Lylye, John ....... 25 
 
 John Lylye was born in Kent, England, during 1553, and educated at 
 
 3«. 
 
ty; 
 
 INDEX OF AUTHORS. 373 
 
 Magdalen College, Oxford, where he took his Master's degree, in 1575. 
 He was the author of the celebrated " Euphues, or Anatomy of Wit," 
 and of several plays, and died about 1600. 
 
 Lyttelton, George, Baron .... Page 127 
 
 George Lyttelton was born in Worcestershire, England, January 17, 
 1708-9, and educated at Christ Church College, Oxford. He travelled 
 for a time in Europe, and on his return became a member of Parlia- 
 ment. In 1744 he was made one of the Lords of the Treasury; in 
 1754, Cofferer to the Household, and Privy Councillor; and in 1755, 
 Chancellor of the Exchequer. In 1757 he was created Baron Lyttel- 
 ton, of Frankley. He died August 22d, 1773. 
 
 Macneil, Hector. . . . . . .143 
 
 Hector M'Neill, was born at Rosebank, near Roslin, Scotland, in 1746. 
 He went, when a young man, to St. Christopher, and there entered on 
 a mercantile life, with good prospects; but an act of imprudence cost 
 him his situation, and he became much reduced in circumstances. He 
 returned to Scotland at the age of forty. He now used his literary 
 abilities to eke out a subsistence, though but a scanty one; publishing 
 several volumes, one of these a novel of moderate merit, and two of 
 them poems — "Scotland's Skaith," and " The Waes o' Man" — that 
 have retained provincial distinction. He also edited for a time the 
 Scots Magazine. He died on March 15th, 18 18. 
 
 Mallet, David . . . . . . .125 
 
 David Mallet was born about 1700, and is supposed to have been a 
 native of Perthshire, Scotland. He was educated at the University of 
 Edinburgh, and became tutor to the sons of the Duke of Montrose. 
 He was at one time Secretary to the Prince of Wales. He v/rote 
 various pl-iys, which were produced between 1731 and 1763 in Lon- 
 don, some successfully, and others not. In 1763 he was made Keeper 
 of the Book of Entries for Ships in the Port of London. He died in 
 April, 1765. 
 
 Marlowe, Christopher ...... 20 
 
 Christopher Marlowe was born at Canterbury, in Kent, during 1562, 
 and educated at Bennet College, Cambridge, where he was made Mas- 
 ter of Arts in 1587. He wrote tragedies and plays, and became an 
 actor, but left the stage, after having broken his leg. He was slain in 
 a street brawl, at Deptford, in May, 1 593. 
 
 Marvel, Andrew . . . . . . .106 
 
 Andrew Marvel was born at Hull, England, during i6zo, and probably 
 educated under the supervision of his father, who was Master of the 
 Grammar School there. He was a vigorous and effective satirist during 
 the days of the Commonwealth, and a strong opponent of the Court 
 party. He died in 1678. 
 
 Xk. 
 
 32 
 
 ^ 
 
%r 
 
 2J i BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 MicKLE, William Julius .... Page 135 
 
 William Julius Mickle was born at Langholm, Dumfriesshire, Septem- 
 ber 29th, 1734. His translation of the "Lusiad" of Camoens appeared 
 in 1775. In 1780 he was made a member of the Royal Academy of 
 Lisbon. He was Secretary to Commodore Johnston, in command of 
 the Romncy, and afterwards appointed joint agent for the prizes taken. 
 He thus acquired a competence, married, and settled at Wheatley, near 
 Oxford, wliere he died, October 25th, 1789. 
 
 Montrose, James Graham, Marquis of . . . 89' 
 
 James Graham, of Montrose, was born in Scotland, in 1 61 2, and suc- 
 ceeded his father, as fifth Earl, when he was but fourteen. He was 
 married soon after, and travelled abroad until 1633. He took ground 
 at first with those who opposed the Church party in Scotland, and was 
 a leading actor in the preparation of the National Covenant. He after- 
 wards went over to the King's party, and was arrested and imprisoned ; 
 but upon the occasion of some concessions made by Charles, in 1642, 
 he was released. In 1644 he was created Marquis, and made Captain- 
 General, and Commander-in-chief for Scotland. In this capacity he 
 won a series of battles, and was successful until he met with Lesley, 
 who defeated him at Philiphaugh, September 13th, 1645. ^" ^^^ 
 King's surrender he capitulated, and was permitted to escape to Nor- 
 way, which he did on September 3d, 1646. He was offered the posts 
 of General of Scots in France, Lieutenant-general in the French army, 
 and Captain of Gens d'armes, but refused. On the death of Charles 
 the First, his son commissioned Montrose to invade Scotland. The 
 Marquis dispatched some of his troops here in September, 1649, and 
 joined them in the following March. In the first battle his forces 
 were routed, and himself captured. He was treated with great indig- 
 nity, and on May 21st, 1650, was hanged on a gibbet thirty feet high, 
 and his body afterwards quartered. He received his fate with such 
 firmness and dignity as to excite even the pity of his enemies. 
 
 Moore, Thomas . . . . . . .183 
 
 Thomas Moore was born in Dublin, on May 28th, 17S0, and educated 
 at Trinity College, Dublin. In 1803 he was made Registrar to the 
 Admiralty, at Bermuda ; but the place not suiting his inclinations, he 
 returned to England in 1804. He has written two plays, with ques- 
 tionable success, and several miscellaneous works, but his reputation 
 depends upon his poems. He died on February 25th, 1852. 
 
 Morris, George P. ..... . 225 
 
 George P. Morris was born in Philadelphia, in the year 1801. He 
 commenced his literary career at an early age; and in 1 823, in con- 
 nection with Woodworth, established the New York Mirror. He was 
 for a long while connected with Willis in the publication of the Home 
 
 k- 
 
 2k 
 
^ 
 
 INDEX OF AUTHORS. 375 
 
 Journal. He has written several successful plays, and divers popular 
 tales, but is better known as a song-writer. His " Woodman, spare 
 that Tree!" is one of the few popular American songs. He died m 
 1 86+. 
 
 Motherwell, William Page 218 
 
 William Motherwell was born at Glasgow, Scotland, on October i 3th, 
 1797. He published several successful volumes, wrote spirited ballads, 
 edited two or three provincial magazines, and attained great distinction 
 as an antiquary. He died on November ist, 1835. 
 Norton, Caroline Elizabeth Sarah . . • 274 
 
 Mrs Norton is a granddaughter of Richard Brinsley Sheridan, and second 
 daughter of Thomas Sheridan, and was born in London, in what year 
 we are not informed. She married with the Hon. G. C. Norton, a 
 brother of Lord Grantley, but the union has proved unhappy. 
 
 Osgood, Frances S ^^" 
 
 Frances S. Locke was born in Boston, Massachusetts, in 1812, a"^ com- 
 menced to write at an early age. In 18 34 she was married lo Mr. S. 
 S Osgood, the artist. She published various volumes of her poems 
 from time to time, all of which had fair success. She died in New 
 York, on May lath, 1850. 
 
 Oxford Edward Vere, Earl of . . . • ^9 
 
 Edward Vere, Earl of Oxford, was born in 1562. He was one of the 
 favourites at the court of Elizabeth, married a daughter of Lord Bur- 
 leigh, was connected with Leicester's expedition to the Netherlands, 
 and took part in the defeat of the Spanish Armada. He wrote a 
 number of comedies that were highly praised by cotemporary critics, 
 but none of these are extant. He died in 1604. 
 Pattison, William . . • • • .120 
 
 William Pattison was born at Peasmarsh, near Rye, in the county of 
 Sussex, England, in 1706. He was educated partially at Sidney Col- 
 lege, Cambridge. He died, in great distress, July iith, 1727. 
 
 Percy, Thomas ^33 
 
 Bishop Percy was born at Bridgenorth, in Shropshire, England, in 1728, 
 and educated at Christ Church College, Oxford. He received the 
 degree of Master of Arts in 1753. and was appointed Chaplain to the 
 King. In 1778 he was made Dean of Carlisle; and in 1782, Bishop 
 of Dromore, in Ireland. He died during 1 8 1 1 . 
 
 PiNKNEY, Edward Coate ^^7 
 
 Edward Coate Pinkney, the son of a former American minister to Eng- 
 land, was burn in London, at the Embassy, in October, 1802. He 
 
 K 
 
 % 
 
37^ 
 
 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 received a partial education at the College of St. Mary's, Baltimore, 
 and then entered the Navy as a midshipman. He continued in the 
 service nine years, but resigned his position on the death of his father. 
 In 1824 he was admitted to the bar. In the profession of law he 
 failed, and also failed in an attempt to enter the naval service of 
 Mexico. In 1826 he was appointed a Professor in the University of 
 Maryland; but his constitution was broken, and after lingering through 
 a weary year or two, he died, April nth, 1828. 
 
 PoE, Edgar Allan ..... Page 283 
 
 Edgar Allan Poe was born in Baltimore, Maryland, in January, 181 1. 
 He was partially educated at a school in England, and partly at the 
 University of Virginia, but never completed his education. He was 
 for a short period a cadet at West Point, went abroad for a year on a 
 Quixotic expedition, and for a time was a private soldier in the Army, 
 but he deserted before his time of service expired. He passed a varied, 
 but miserable life, and died of delirium tremens, in a hospital in Bal- 
 timore, on October 7th, 1849. 
 
 Prentice, George D. ..... . 247 
 
 George D. Prentice was born at Preston, in Connecticut, in the year 
 1804, and was educated at Brown University, Providence. He has 
 been for many years the editor of the Louis-ville Journal^ in Ken- 
 tucky. 
 
 Proctor, Bryan Waller 
 
 Bryan Waller Proctor, better known as 
 
 . 215 
 
 Barry Cornwall," was born 
 in London, about 1796. He was educated at Harrow, and is a banis- 
 ter, enjoying a fair practice. He is, or was, Commissioner of Lunacy. 
 
 Prior, Matthew 
 
 Matthew Prior was born at Winborne, in Dorsetshire, England, July 
 2ist, 1664, and educated at St. John's College, Cambridge. In 1691 
 he was made Secretary to the Earl of Berkeley, Ambassador and Pleni- 
 potentiary at the Congress of the Hague, and afterwards Gentleman of 
 the Bedchamber. In 1697, he was Secretary to the English Plenipo- 
 tentiary at the treaty of Ryswick, and the same year was made Secre- 
 tary to the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland. In 1698 he was Secretary 
 of Legation at Paris, and filled afterwards other diplomatic and official 
 positions. In 1700 he was made Master of Arts by mandamus. He 
 was member of Parliament in 1701. In August, 1713, he was ap- 
 pointed Ambassador to Paris, and on his return to England was arrested, 
 March 25th, 1715, by order of the House of Commons, on a charge 
 of high treason. In 1717, he was specially excepted from the act of 
 grace passed by Parliament; but was finally discharged, a ruined man. 
 He died September 18th, 1721. 
 
 :V^. 
 
INDEX OF AUTHORS. 377 
 
 Raleigh, Sir. Walter ..... Page 2 1 
 
 Walter Raleigh was born at Hayes, in Devonshire, England, during 
 1552, and educated at Oriel College, Oxford. His life was a succes- 
 sion of achievements, explorations, intrigues, and troubles. In 1569, 
 he went to France with an expedition in aid of the Huguenots, servel 
 there for five years, and subsequently in the Netherlands, under thj 
 Prince of Orange. He next went v/ith Sir Humphrey Gilbert on a 
 voyage to America, from whence he returned in 1579. In I 580, he 
 commanded a company of the royal troops in Ireland, against tile Earl 
 of Desmond. Three years afterwards he was introduced at court, 
 where he became a favourite of Elizabeth. He was knighted, made 
 Captain of the Guard, Seneschal of the county of Cornwall, and Lord 
 Warden of the Stannaries, with a grant of I2,ooo acres frcm the 
 forfeited estates of the Earl of Desmond, and a patent for licensing 
 the vendors of wine in England. In 1584, he obtained a patent au- 
 thorizing to hold forever any territories he might acquire in America. 
 In 1585 he landed in Virginia. From this voyage tobacco was first 
 brought, and the potato plant introduced into England. From this 
 time forth he was engaged in many stormy adventures; but having 
 lost the favor of James the First, he was convicted of high treason, 
 and, it is generally thought, unjustly, in 1603. He was reprieved, and 
 remained a close prisoner in the Tower for thirteen years. In I 61 5, 
 he was released conditionally, to open a mine in Guiana. On this 
 voyage he had an encounter with the Spaniards, was unsuccessful in 
 finding the mine, and, his crew mutinying, was obliged to return to 
 England. Here the brutal pedant. King James, caused him to be 
 executed under the old sentence, on October 28th, 1618. 
 
 Rochester, John Wilmot, Earl of . . .119 
 
 John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester, v/as born at Ditchley, near Woodstock, 
 in Oxfordshire, England, on April loth, 1647, and was educated at 
 Oxford, where he was made Master of Arts, in 1661. He travelled 
 in France and Italy, and on his return was made Gentleman of the 
 Bedchamber to Charles the Second, and Cjmptroller of Woodstock 
 Park. In 1665 he went to sea v/ith the Earl of Sandwich, and dis- 
 tinguished himself in that and the following year. He was witty, 
 profligate, and abandoned. He died July a6th, 1680. 
 
 Rockwell, James Otis . . . . . .257 
 
 James Otis Rockwell was born at Lebanon, Connecticut, in 1807. He 
 was taught the art of a printer, and became editor of the Boston States- 
 man. In 1829, he became editor and publisher of the Proi'idetne 
 Patriot. In this last position he died, during the summer of 183 1. 
 His poems have never been collected. 
 32* 
 
Ve 
 
 ■5? 
 
 37« 
 
 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 Rogers, Samuel ...... Page 161 
 
 Samuel Rogers was born in London, in 1762, and, like liis father, was 
 a banker. He published little but his pucms. He died during 1855. 
 
 Russell, Thomas . . . . . . ,160 
 
 Thomas Russei.l was born at Bridport, in Dorsetshire, England, about 
 1762, and educated at the Grammar School there, and at Winchester. 
 In 1780 he was elected Fellow of New College, Oxford. He died at 
 Bristol, on July 31st, 1788. 
 
 Sargent, Epes ....... 297 
 
 Epes Sakcent was born at Gloucester, Massachusetts, in 1816, and was 
 partly educated at Harvard College. He became connected with the 
 press at an early age, has written plays, school-books, juvenile works, 
 and poems. He is now a resident of Boston. 
 
 Scott, Sir Walter . . . . . .165 
 
 Sir Walter Scott was born August i^th, 1771, and entered the pro- 
 fession of the l.iw, May 17th, 1786. His first poem of note was 
 "The Lay of the Last Minstrel," which appeared in 1805, and was 
 followed by others in rapid succession. The appearance of Byron's 
 poems, and their rapid popularity, induced him to forsake that path of 
 literature fur another, in which he achieved still greater success. His 
 novel of " Waverlcy" appeared in 1814, and created a sensation. It 
 was followeii by others, some of which surpass it. At first the author 
 was unknown; and although suspected by many, it was not unlil after 
 several years that he threw off the mask. He died on September 
 Zist, 1832. 
 
 Sedley, Sir Charles . . . . . .116 
 
 Sir Charles Sedlky was born at Aylesford, in Kent, during 1639, and 
 partially educated at Wadham College, Oxford. He w.is a courtier, 
 and afterwards a member of Parliament, taking sides with the Prince 
 of Orange during the Revolution. He died in 1701. 
 
 Shakspeare, William . , . . . . 37 
 
 William Shakspeare was born at Stratford-on-Avon, in Warwickshire, 
 
 April a3d, 1564. He removed to London in 1587, became an actor, 
 
 and one of the proprietor? of the theatre. He retired to the country 
 
 in 1612, and died April a3d, 1616. 
 
 Shaw, John . . . . , . . .182 
 
 Dr. John Shaw was born in Annapolis, Maryland, May 4th, 1778 ; edu- 
 cated at St. John's College, Annapolis; received his medical education 
 from the University of Pennsylvania and that of Edinburgh, at the I 
 latter of which he took his Doctor's degree. He was Secretary to I 
 
 Jisi— % 
 
VST— TJ? 
 
 INDEX OF AUTHORS. 379 
 
 General K.iton at Tunis; went wilh Lord Srlkirk to Lake St. Clair, 
 where the latter desireJ to found a colony; and after wandering for 
 some time, settled at Annapolis, and commenced the practice of his 
 profession. In 1807, he married and removed to Baltimore. He died 
 January loth, 1809. 
 
 Shelley, Percy Bysshe ..... Pagk. 208 
 
 Percy Bysshe Shf-LLEV was born at Horsham, in Sussex, England, on 
 August 4th, 1791, and educated at University College, Oxford. He 
 wrote s-veral atheistical and other works, and some of the most highly 
 imaginative poems in the language. He was drowned off Lcgiiorn, 
 Italy, July 8th, 1821. 
 
 Shepherd, Nathaniel G. 336 
 
 Nathaniel G. Shepherd was born in New York, in 1836; and is 
 known as a contributor, in both prose and poetry, to various leading 
 journals. 
 
 Sheridan, Richard Brinsley Butler . . .150 
 
 RiCHARU Brinsley Sheridan was born at Dublin, Ireland, in September, 
 1 75 1, and educated at Trinity College, Dublin. He wrutir some of 
 the most celebrated comedies, farces, operas, and dramas in the lan- 
 guage, all of which yet hold jjosscssion of the stage. He also shone 
 as a politician, and was elected in 1780 to Parliament, where he fur- 
 ther distinguished himself. He was for a time one of the projjrictors 
 of Drury Lane Theatre, from which, on his second marriage, in 1795, 
 he retired to a small estate in Surrey. There he remained until 179X, 
 when he returned to London to bring out two of his |>lays, translations 
 and amplifications from Kotzebue — "The Stranger," and " Pizarro." 
 He died on July 7th, 1816. 
 
 Sidney, Sir Philip ....... 24 
 
 Sir Philip Sidney was born at Penshurst, in Kent, England, on Novem- 
 ber 21/h, 1554, and educated at Christ Church, Oxford. He travelled 
 in Europe from 1572 to 1575. In 1576 he was Special Ambassador 
 to the court of Vienna. It is asserted that in 1585 he was offered, 
 and declined, the crown of Poland. That year he was made Governor 
 of Flushing. He was killed in battle at Zutphen, in tlie Low Coun- 
 tries, S-ptembcr 22d, 1 5X6. He wrote a scries of poems, and nume- 
 rous other works, including " Arcadia," and the " Defence of Poesie." 
 
 Skelton, John ....... 9 
 
 John Skelton was born in Cumberland, England, about 1463, and edu- 
 cated at Oxford, where he took the laurel crown for poetry, in 1489. 
 He took order', and bcame Rector of Dysse, in Norfolk ; but was 
 finally suspended on account of the immoral tendency of his writings. 
 He died on June 2i3t, 1 529. 
 
 ^ 
 
38o 
 
 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 Smollett, Tobias ...... Page 129 
 
 Tobias Smollett was born at Dalquhurn, in Dumbartonshire, Scotland, 
 in 1720. He became a surgeon, but was better known as a novelist. 
 He received the degree of Doctor of Medicine about 175 1 J was from 
 1756 to 1763 editor of the Critical Rcv'mv ; and in 1757 produced 
 tlic successful comedy of the Reprisal, at Drury Lane. He wrote a 
 popular History of England, translated Don Quixote and Gil Bias, and 
 produced several standard novels. He died October 29th, 1771. 
 
 Spenser, Edmund . . . . . . . 23 
 
 Edmund Spf.nser was born in London, of obscure parents, and was edu- 
 cated at Pembroke Hall, Cambridge. He failed in his attempt to 
 obtain a fellowship there, being beaten by his competitor, Andrews, 
 who was afterwards Bishop of Winchester. Patronized by Sir Philip 
 Sidney, on account of his Faery i^teenf, he was received at court, and 
 created Poet Laureate. Lord Burleigh was his constant enemy, and 
 for a time prevented his preferment. He was, however, sent abroad 
 on public service, and afterwards made Secretary to Lord Grey, of 
 Wilton, while the latter was Deputy in Ireland. His latter years were 
 unfortunate, and he died in 1598. Many of his works are lost. 
 
 Stanley, Thomas . . . . . . .118 
 
 Thomas Stanley was born at Camberlow Green, in Hertfordshire, in 
 1625, and educated at Pembroke Hall, Cambridge. He travelled 
 abroad for some time, wrote a rather famous " History of Philosophy," 
 edited .^schylus, and other Greek poets, and died in 167S. 
 
 Sterling, William Alexander, Earl of . . . 57 
 
 William Alexander was born at Mcnstric, in Scotland, in 15S0. He 
 travelled for a time with the Duke of Argyle; and on his return, and 
 afterward, published several tragedies and poems. In 161 3 he was 
 appointed one of the Gentlemen Ushers to Prince Charles, and 
 knighted. In 1626, he was made Secretary of State for Scotland; 
 and in 1633, created Earl of Sterling, by patent. He died in 1640. 
 
 Stoddard, Richard Henry . . . . .321 
 
 Richard Henry Stoddard was born in July, 1825, at Hingham, in 
 
 Massachusetts. He abandoned his trade of iron-founder in 1848 for 
 
 literature; and finally obtained a situation in the Custom-house, which 
 
 he still holds. 
 
 Strode, William ....... 79 
 
 William Strode was born in 1599, and educated at Oxford. He took 
 orders, and became a Canon of Christ Church College. He wrote 
 orations, sermons, poems, and plays; of the latter, one only is pre- 
 served. He died in 1644. 
 
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 INDEX OF AUTHORS. 381 
 
 Suckling, Sir John . . . . . Page 9 1 
 
 Sir John Suckling was born at Witham, in Middlesex, in 161 3. He is 
 said to have spoken Latin at five years of age, and to have vvrittcn it at 
 nine — which is almost too absurd to be repeated. One of his biog- 
 raphers says, quite innocently — " If this circumstance be true, it would 
 seem that he had learned Latin from his nurse, nor ever heard any 
 other language, for it is not to be supposed that he could speak Latin 
 at five in consequence of study." He became Comptroller of the 
 Household to Charles the First. V/hcn the civil war broke out, he 
 raised and headed a troop of horse, at a great expense; but neither he 
 nor his troop did much nor effective service. He died on March 7th, 
 1641, of a fever. His productions are notable, though marked with 
 the coarseness and sensuality of the time; and among them, his "Bal- 
 lad on a V/edding" is justly celebrated. 
 
 Surrey, Henry Howard, Earl of . . . . 14 
 
 The Earl of Surrey was the son of the Duke of Norfolk, Lord Treas- 
 urer of England, and the grandson of another duke who had held the 
 same position. He received an excellent education at Cardinal Wol- 
 sey's College, at Oxford, and was among the foremost wits and gallants 
 of his time. It is said of him, that the celebrated Cornelius Agrippa, 
 with whom he had an acquaintance, shov/ed him, in his celebrated 
 magic glass, his love, Geraldine, reclining on a couch, sick, and reading 
 by a wax taper one of her lover's sonnets. The Earl served in the 
 Army, distinguishing himself at the battle of Flodden ; but afterwards 
 failed, in the expedition to Boulogne, where he held the position of 
 field-marshal. This failure ended his military career, and lost him the 
 favour of King Henry. He v/as finally tried, and convicted of high 
 treason, though on the most frivolous grounds, and was beheaded on 
 Tower-HUi, on January 19th, 1546-7. His " Geraldine" was Lady 
 Ehzabeth Fitzgerald, second daughter of Gerald Fitzgerald, Earl of 
 Kildare, and afterwards third wifc of Edward Chnton, Earl of Lincoln. 
 His "Songes and Sjnnettes" were first collected along with those of 
 Sir Thomas Wyat, the elder, and others, and published by Tottell, in 
 London, 1557. 
 
 Sylvester, Joshua . . . . . • 35 
 
 Joshua Sylvester was born in 1563. He was a merchant, but became 
 known to Oueen Elizabeth through his wit, and was a favourite with 
 her and her successor. From some cause not clearly stated, he was 
 obliged to leave England during the reign of James the First, and died 
 in Holland, September 28th, 161 8. 
 
 Tannahill, Robert . . . . . .177 
 
 Robert Tannahill was born June 3d, 1774, at Paisley, Scotland, where 
 he worked at the trade of a weaver. He died May 17th, 1810. 
 
■s 
 
 382 
 
 BOOK OF RUBIES. 
 
 Taylor, James Bayard ..... Page 3 1 5 
 James Bayard Taylor was born January nth, 1835, at Kennct Square, 
 Chester county, Pennsylvania. He left for Europe in 1844, and trav- 
 elled a-foot over the Continent. Since that time he has travelled over 
 half the globe, and published several popular volumes of travels. His 
 reputation will rest more on his poetry, however, than his prose. 
 
 Tennyson, Alfred . . . . . .282 
 
 Alfred Tennyson was born at Somerset, in Lincolnshire, England, in 
 18 10, and educated at Trinity College, Cambridge. He was made 
 Poet Laureate on the death of Wordsworth, and Oxford has given him 
 the degree of Doctor of the Civil Law. He is known alone by his 
 poems, of wiiich he has published several volumes j and may be said 
 to have founded a new school of poetry. 
 
 Thomas, Frederick W. ...... 276 
 
 Frederick W. Thomas was born at Providence, Rhode Island, October 
 25th, 1808. He was admitted to the bar, at an early age, at Charles- 
 ton, South Carolina, where he had resided from his childhood, and in 
 1834 he removed to Cincinnati. He has written several successful 
 novels and historical works. 
 
 Thomson, James . . . . . . .124 
 
 James Thomson was born at Ednam, near Kelso, in Roxburghshire, Scot- 
 land, September nth, 1700, and was educated partly at a school in 
 Jedburgh, and partly at the University of Edinburgh. He published 
 his "Winter," in 1726, in London, where its reccptitm was highly fa- 
 vourable. Betvi'een that and 1730, the remainder of the poems making 
 up "Tlie Seasons" were published. He failed in tragedy — his " Sopho- 
 nisba" meeting with bad success at Drury Lane. He travelled in Eu- 
 rope as tutor to the Hon. Charles Talbot, son of the Chancellor, and 
 on his return was made Secretary of the Briefs. A posthumous tragedy, 
 called " Coriolanus," was produced in 1749. He died August 27th, 
 1748. 
 
 Vere, Aubrey de ...... . 293 
 
 Aubrey Thomas de Vere is the third son of Sir Aubrey de Vere, the 
 author of "Julian the Apostate," and other works, and was born 
 January loth, 1814. He has published two different volumes of 
 poetry. The family were originally Lish, and named Hunt; but the 
 father of our poet assumed the arms and surname of De Vere in 1832, 
 by letters-patent. 
 
 Wallace, William Ross ..... 299 
 
 William Ross Wallace was born in Kentucky, in 18 18, and edncai€d, 
 
 we believe, at an Indiana College. He has been admitted to the bar, 
 
Vs- 
 
 INDEX OF AUTHORS. 383 
 
 but is a lilerary man by profession. Sonic of his lyrics are cxcceiiingly 
 noble, and will live. 
 
 Waller, Edmund ...... Pagk 82 
 
 Edmund Waller was born at Colcshill,in Hcrtfo'-dshire, England, March 
 3d, 1605, and educated at Eton, and King's College, Cambridge. He 
 was chosen member of Parliament at eighteen years of age, and ban- 
 ished in 1643, for being engaged in a plot for the king's restoration, but 
 was at length permitted to return. He served in Parliament during 
 the reigns of Charles the Second and James the Second, being elected 
 to the first Parliament of the latter sovereign when in his eightieth 
 year. He died October 21st, 1687. He enjoyed successively the favor 
 of James I., Charles I., Cromwell, Charles II., and James II. 
 
 Walsh, William . . . . . . .121 
 
 Wjli.iam Walsh, the correspondent and friend of Pope, was born at 
 Abberley, in Worcestershire, England, in 1663, and educated at Ox- 
 ford. He sat several times in Parliament. 
 
 Whittler, John Greenleaf . . . . .271 
 
 John Greenleaf Whittier was born at Haverhill, Massachusetts, in 
 1808. He commenced writing for the journals at an early age, and 
 at twenty-one became an editor. He has written a great number of 
 poems, mostly on American subjects and tlie live topics of the day, 
 together with several prose volumes. 
 
 Willis, Nathaniel P. ..... . 259 
 
 Nathaniel P. Willis was born at Portland, in Maine, January 20th, 
 1807, and was educated at Yale College, New Haven. He is well 
 known as a playwright, novelist, tale-writer, poet, and editor. He 
 was connected with General Morris, until the death of the latter, in 
 tJie publication of the Home Journal, and still edits that popular sheet. 
 
 Wither, George ....... 65 
 
 George Wither was born at Bentworth, near Alton, in Hampshire, 
 England, on June iith, 1 588, and was educated at Magdalen College, 
 Oxford. He studied law at Lincoln's Inn, but, like many of his con- 
 temporaries, abandoned his profession for literature. He sided with the 
 Parliament in the Civil War, and obtained the rank of Major. Crom- 
 well made him Major-General of Horse and Foot in the county of 
 Surrey. After the Restoration he was committed to the Tower, on 
 account of a seditious publication, and remained imprisoned for three 
 years. He died on May zd, 1667. 
 
 Wordsworth, William . . . . . .162 
 
 William Wordsworth was born at Cockermouth, in Cumberland, Eng- 
 land, on April 7th, 1770, and was educated at St. John's College, 
 
'? 
 
 7 
 
 384 POOiT OF RUBIES. 
 
 Cambridge. He received the degree of Doctor of Laws from Oxford, 
 in 1839; and after the death of Southey, was made Poet Lauieate. 
 He died in 1849. 
 
 WoTTON, Sir Henry . . . . . Page 45 
 
 Henry WoTTON was born in Kent, England, March 30th, 1568, and 
 educated at New and at Queen's College, Oxford, where he took his 
 Master's degree in 1588. He travelled several years, and then entered 
 the Earl of Essex's service. He was Ambassador to Venice under 
 James the First, but finally took orders and became Provost of Eton, 
 dying as such, during 1639. 
 
 Wyat, Sir Thomas . . . . . . 1 1 
 
 Sir Thomas Wyat, the elder, was born at Allington Castle, in Kent, 
 and educated at Cambridge. He was a favourite with Henry the 
 Eighth, and was celebrated for his wit and good companionship. It 
 was said of him that he caused the Reformation by a joke, and the fall 
 of Wolsey by a seasonable story. He lost the favour of the King at 
 one time, probably from a too great intimacy with Anna Boleyn, but, 
 after suffering imprisonment, regained his former position. He was sent 
 to conduct the Ambassador of Charles the Fifth from Falmouth to 
 London ; and in his eagerness to perform the duty acceptably, over- 
 heated himself, and caught a fever, from which he died in 1541, in 
 the thirty-eighth year of his age. Besides his songs and sonnets, he 
 translated parts of Virgil, and made a version of David's Psalms. The 
 latter is not now extant. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 J 
 
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