Alone, to the banks of the dark rolling Danube 40 Burg Niedeck is a mountain in Alsace, high and strong 241 Come take up your hats, and away let us haste 82 C C Have I a knight, or have I a page He is gone on the mountain He left his home with a bounding heart He sat in silence on the ground He talked of daggers and of darts 245 Her chariot ready strait is made 369 Her hands were clasped, her dark eyes raised 41 109 How sleep the brave, who sink to rest. 201 I made a mountain brook my guide I met a little cottage-girl I saw him on the battle-eve I sprung to the stirrup, and Joris, and he I wish I were where Helen lies PAGE In schools of wisdom all the day was spent. In the hollow tree, in the gray old tower It is an ancient mariner It was an aged man, who stood It was an hour of grief and fear It was a summer's evening 324 264 266 153 35 332 205 Mother, mother, the winds are at play. 272 My beautiful, my beautiful, that standest meekly by 173 355 No eye beheld when William plunged Of Leinster, famed for maidens fair 388 INDEX OF FIRST LINES. PAGE O listen, listen, ladies gay 15 She was an only child O Mary, go and call the cattle home On Linden when the sun was low On the green banks of Shannon when Sheelah was nigh Our bugles sang truce, for the night-cloud had lowered O young Lochinvar is come out of the west. Pibroch of Donuil Dhu Say, what remains when hope is fled See, the day begins to break Seven daughters had Lord Archibald She put him on a snow-white shroud Silent and mournful sat an Indian chief Singing and dancing being all their pleasure Sleep breathes at last from out thee Sleep, little baby, sleep Some murmur, when their sky is clear. 325 Southward with fleet of ice 17 The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold 300 The fox and the cat, as they travelled one day PAGE The months all riding came The Moor had beleaguered Valencia's towers The muffled drum was heard The spearmen heard the bugle sound The summer and autumn had been so wet The warrior bowed his crested head Then each at once his falchion drew 298 There came to the beach a poor exile of Erin There's George Fisher, Charles Fleming, and Reginald Shore There were three kings into the East They grew in beauty side by side They made her a grave too cold and damp They shot him dead at the Nine-Stone Rig Three fishers went sailing away to the west 'Twas dead of night, when weary bodies close Underneath an old oak tree Under the green hedges after the snow Under the greenwood tree Waken lords and ladies gay |