Hot midsummer's petted crone, Aught unsavoury or unclean, Grass with green flag half-mast high, Wiser far than human seer, Thou dost mock at fate and care, EMERSON. DISDAIN RETURNED. HE E that loves a rosie cheeke, Or from star-like eyes doth seeke But a smooth and stedfast minde, No tears, Celia, now shall win Can disdain as much as thou. THOMAS CAREW. W AULD ROBIN GRAY. HEN the sheep are in the fauld and the And a' the weary warld to sleep are gane, Young Jamie lo'ed me weel, and sought me for his bride; But saving a crown he had naething else beside. To mak' the crown a pound, my Jamie gaed to sea; And the crown and the pound were baith for me. He hadna been gane a year and a day, When my father brake his arm, and our cow was stown away; My mither she fell sick, and Jamie at the sea; My father couldna' work, and my mither doughtna spin, I toil'd day and night, but their bread I couldna win; Auld Rab maintain'd them baith, and wi' tears in his e'e, Said, "Jenny, for their sakes, O marry me!" My heart it said na; I look'd for Jamie back; But the wind it blew high, and the ship it was a wrack; His ship it was a wrack,-why didna Jenny dee? My father urgit sair, my mither didna speak, break. They gied him my hand, though my heart was at the sea; Sae Auld Robin Gray he is gudeman to me. I hadna been a wife a week but only four, O sair did we greet, and muckle did we say ; I gang like a ghaist, and I carena to spin. I darena think on Jamie, for that wad be a sin. LADY ANNE LINDSAY. A SONG. 66 [FROM ZAPOLYA."] SUNNY shaft did I behold, From sky to earth it slanted, And poised therein a bird so bold,— Sweet bird, thou wert enchanted! He sank, he rose, he twinkled, he troll'd mist; Within that shaft of sunny His eyes of fire, his beak of gold, All else of amethyst. And thus he sang, "Adieu! adieu! We must away, To-day! to-day!" COLERIDGE. SONNET. MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS. (LANDING AT THE MOUTH OF THE DERWENT, D EAR to the Loves and to the Graces vow'd, And to the throng, that on the Cumbrian shore Of woes and degradations hand in hand- Still'd by the ensanguined block of Fotheringay. WORDSWORTH. LINES COMPOSED IN A CONCERT ROOM. * GIVE me, from this heartless scene released, To hear our old musician, blind and gray, (Whom stretching from my nurse's arms I kiss 'd) |