English

Oh, rescue her! I am her brother now,
And you her father. Every gentle maid
Should have a guardian in each gentleman.

My lady's tongue is like the meadow blades,
That cut you stroking them with idle hand.
Nice cutting is her function: she divides
With spiritual edge the millet-seed,
And makes intangible savings.

“Make way for liberty!” he cried,
Made way for liberty, and died.

In arms the Austrian phalanx stood,
A living wall, a human wood;
A wall,—where every conscious stone
Seem'd to its kindred thousands grown,
A rampart all assaults to bear,
Till time to dust their frames should wear:
A wood,—like that enchanted grove
In which with fiends Rinaldo strove,
Where every silent tree possess'd
A spirit imprison'd in its breast,
Which the first stroke of coming strife
Might startle into hideous life:

Across the Prairie's silent waste I stray,
A fertile, verdant, woodless, boundless plain;
Shadeless it lies beneath the glare of day,
But gentle breezes sweep the grassy main,
Over whose surface, as they rest or play,
The waving billows sink or rise again;
While some far distant lonely hut or tree
Looms like a solitary sail at sea!

What is yon rude and overhanging steep
That frowns on Illinois' unmurmuring tide,—
Fortress, or cliff, or Pharos of the deep?
Stern Nature's monument of savage pride,

If the romantic land whose soil I tread
Could give back all its passions—first and last—
Awaking from their dust her fiery dead,
And with them all the history of the past,
No light upon my visions could they shed,
No balm upon my wounded spirit cast:
For me there is no help, no hope, no cure,
I have but to dissemble and endure.

Those very dead—with whom I 've lived so long
That I might lose the living—all combined—
Told or untold their fate, in tale or song,
Could bring no new emotion to my mind;

Mount Auburn! loveliest city of the dead,
No cemetery on earth with thee may vie
In native beauty. Wheresoe'er we tread,
Wood, water, rocks, turf, flowers, salute the eye:
Afar the ocean's bosom is outspread,
And naught distracts our meditations high
And holy reveries. Earth and air and wave
Are tranquil all, as man's best home, the Grave!
What obelisk arises on yon hill,
That overlooks a stately town and bay?
It is a scene to gaze on! Look thy fill!
Yet temples, islands, shipping, what are they?

What could be nicer than the spring,
When little birds begin to sing?
When for my daily walk I go
Through fields that once were white with snow?
When in the green and open spaces
Lie baby lambs with sweet black faces?
What could be finer than to shout
That all the buds are bursting out—
And oh, at last beneath the hill,
To pick a yellow daffodil?

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.