INITIALS AND PSEUDONYMS. THE authority is, in most cases, Initials and Pseudonyms by William Cushing, B. A., 1885. The pseudonyms used by an author in his prose as well as his poetical works are included, but not the author's own initials when they have been used as a literary disguise in either instance. MATTHEW ARNOLD. The Strayed Reveller, 1849; Empedocles on Etna, CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI., JAMES THOMSON. The letters stood ROBERT BUCHANAN. Pseudonym used in contributions to the London Spectator, 1867. MORTIMER COLLINS. Mr. Carrington, 1873. JAMES THOMSON. The Fadeless Bower, in Tait's Edinburgh Magazine, July, 1858. AUGUSTA Webster. Blanche Lisle and Other Poems, 1860; The Brisons, in Macmillan's Magazine, 1861; Lesley's Guardians, 1864. INDEX OF FIRST LINES. 'A CURSE is on this work!' Columba cried Again the Thunderer spake: 'Titan, thy task Ah me, dread friends of mine - Love, Time, and Death! A little shadow makes the sunrise sad All through the sultry hours of June A maiden wandering from the east And shall I weep that Love's no more And this was your cradle? Why surely, my Jenny. 'And thou hast taken from me my fair faith As a wild comet through the night she hies As Gerty skipt from babe to girl. As in a glass at evening, dusky-gray As you sit at your ease. At last one night, as lone Firdausi rode A wild rough night: and through the gloomy gray Beyond the ages far away Blest is the man whose heart and hands are pure! 151 196 159 255 209 189 Come, let us go into the lane, love mine 115 Comes April, her white fingers wet with flowers. 273 253 Day of my life! where can she get? 304 Dear Love, thou art so far above my song 248 Death, what hast thou to do with me? So saith Flowers pluckt upon a grave by moonlight, pale Go, for they call you, shepherd, from the hill Half robed, with gold hair drooped o'er shoulders white Hark! ah, the nightingale -. He had played for his lordship's levee Here I'd come when weariest ! Here, in this leafy place Here might I rest forever; here Here, where the world is quiet Her worth, her wit, her loving smile He who died at Azan sends How fair those locks which now the light wind stirs ! Hunger that strivest in the restless arms In all my singing and speaking In twilight of the longest day. I stood before the vail of the Unknown It stands in the stable-yard, under the eaves I tumble out of bed betimes It was cruel of them to part . I will out-soar these clouds, and shake to nought Last night I woke and found between us drawn, 'Little Bo-peep has lost her sheep' Lord, art Thou here? far from the citied zones 21 291 19 178 326 249 18 310 322 306 206 118 289 79 289 243 91 302 208 38 243 127 230 312 225 293 287 239 203 163 29 162 224 329 39 309 114 329 143 226 280 |