English

Wha wad na be in love
Wi' bonnie Maggie Lauder?
A piper met her gaun to Fife,
And speir'd what was 't they ca'd her;
Right scornfully she answer'd him,
‘Begone, you hallanshaker,
Jog on your gate, you bladderskate,
My name is Maggie Lauder.’

‘Maggie,’ quoth he, ‘and by my bags,
I'm fidging fain to see thee;
Sit down by me, my bonnie bird,
In troth I winna steir thee;
For I'm a piper to my trade,
My name is Rob the Ranter;
The lasses loup as they were daft,
When I blaw up my chanter.’

. . . . was broken.
He bade a warrior abandon his horse
And hurry forward to join the fighters,
Take thought to his hands and a stout heart.
Then Offa's kinsmen knew that the eorl
Would never suffer weakness or fear;
And he let from hand his beloved hawk
Fly to the forest, and made haste to the front;
By which one could know the lad would never
Weaken in war when he seized a sword.
Eadric also stood by his lord,
His prince, in the battle; forward he bore
His spear to the fight; he had firm resolve

sing will I
for his sake
sing will I
1. Unto Jehovah sing will I For he
for his sake
2. This is my God, and for his sake I will
sing will I
for his sake
that rode thereon
is this same,
excelleth gloriously; The horse and him that rode thereon
an habitation make; God of my father is this same,
Into the sea thrown down hath he; Jah is my strength
And I will highly him prefer. Jehovah is
and melody And hath been my salvation.
a man of war, Jehovah his renownèd name.
salvation.
renownèd name.

Under the sun is nothing new?
Nothing, if Solomon says true.
Archdeacon, you'll excuse me then
If I today should not be seen
Amidst the goodly row of friends
Which on your reverence attends
To hail you happy this new year,
Wishing it full of health and cheer:
But lo! sir, compliments apart,
My muse shall greet you from her heart.
Through many good old years O! may
Your present temper not decay!
That temper, which denoteth plain
A mind and body free from pain.
And can my wishes not succeed?

This cool and laughing mind, renewed
From covert sources like a spring's,
Is potent to translate the mood
Of all distraught and twisted things.

In this clear water shall be cast
Outrageous shapes of steel and gold,
And all their hot and clotted past
Beaded with bubbles silver-cold.

The moving power takes their heat
Into itself, forgetting them;
And warmth in trickles, slow and sweet
Comforts a fainting lily-stem.

[Good Jonathan, I've read your ditty
Which was, of course, well-turned and pretty;
It was as always charming, clever,
As you are in your writing ever.
I laud you with the highest praise;
To me you shine with Phoebus' rays.
O brother Phoebus, brother poet
Who brings me needed eyewash so it
Repairs the damages of mad
Diana's rays that struck—bedad,
Not scorched—and made my eyes a mess
With ever-growing iciness.
My quack prescribes a double blanket,
Then takes my wine and says, “Don't drink it.”

In heavens eternal court it was decreed
How the first martyr for the cause should bleed
To clear the country of the hated brood
He whet his courage for the common good
Long hid before, a vile infernal here
Prevents Achilles in his mid career
Where'er this fury darts his Pois'nous breath
All are endanger'd to the shafts of death
The generous Sires beheld the fatal wound
Saw their young champion gasping on the ground
They rais'd him up, but to each present ear
What martial glories did his tongue declare

'Tis not that I am weary grown
Of being yours, and yours alone,
But with what face can I incline
To damn you to be only mine?
You, whom some kinder power did fashion
By merit and by inclination
The joy at least of a whole nation.

Let meaner spirits of your sex
With humble aims their thoughts perplex,
And boast if by their arts they can
Contrive to make one happy man;
While moved by an impartial sense
Favours, like Nature, you dispense
With universal influence.

See the kind seed-receiving earth

‘Time's Conscience!’ cried the allerion.
‘How great the thrustlecock and thistle,
How small the lily and the lion,
How great and small and equal all,
How one and many, same and sorted,
How not unchanged and not distorted!’

And the money was made of gold,
And the gold was made of money,
And the cause of the quarrel was nothing,
And the arguers stopped counting
At how much, how many, one and plenty,
And peace came and was the same.

If then, if now, then then, now now,
No more and always and thus and so,

Hail heavenly pensive solitude—
Thy raptures now I feel
With thee the holy wise and good—
Would ever wish to dwell—
For taught by thee the world appears—
Just as it really is
A point a span a group of Cares,
Incapable to please.—
By thee inspir'd in early days
Fidelia and her friend—
Would leave the crouds insidious gaze
And moralize their end.—
Descried the snare that pleasure laid
To tempt their youthful feet
And always in thy gentle shade
Possess'd a safe retreat.—
Thus with that serious hour in view