Ban and Arrière Ban: A Rally of Fugitive Rhymes |
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ANDREW LANG artist's imagery auld Auld Alliance BALLAD Ballantrae Banshie BASS FOR KING bird Books boughs breast-knots were broken Calais Sands Cavaliers Château de Souvenir chidden city of death cried DARK Lily David Grieve dead deeds of bale doth dream dusty nook enchanted fair fairy Felix Holt fight flee Four lads frae ghost Golden Eyes grace grey Halyburton hast hath Haunted Homes heard heart Heigh-ho HELD THE BASS Holly Howard Fry JULES LEMAÎTRE Kate Kennedie KING JAMES King Romance leal Northern land Lily without blame lips lute Maid Middleton mirth moan nane night o'er Once only didst Pomona Road rare to Love rhymes so rare Robert Elsmere ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON Roses Saints shame sigh sing slain song Soul stain sweet tale thee THÉOPHILE GAUTIER There's thou TOURNAY Twas Valleys of enchanted wherein Whigs wind wine Wullie Wanbeard ye'll Ye're young Dunbar
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Page ii - Lang (ANDREW). LETTERS TO DEAD AUTHORS. Fcp. 8vo, 2s. 6d. net. BOOKS AND BOOKMEN. With 2 Coloured Plates and 17 Illustrations. Fcp. 8vo, 2s. 6d. net. OLD FRIENDS. Fcp. 8vo, 2s. 6d. net. LETTERS ON LITERATURE. Fcp. 8vo, 2s. 6d. net. ESSAYS IN LITTLE.
Page 24 - He loses her who gains her, Who watches day by day The dust of time that stains her, The griefs that leave her gray, The flesh that yet enchains her, Whose grace hath passed away." Oh, happier he who gains not The love some seem to gain; The joy that custom stains not Shall still with him remain, The loveliness that wanes not, The love that ne'er can wane. " In dreams she grows not older, The land of dreams among, Though all the world wax colder, Though all the songs be sung; In dreams doth he behold...
Page 12 - Ah, my Prince, it were well,— Hadst thou to the gods been dear, To have fallen where Keppoch fell, With the war-pipe loud in thine ear! To have died with never a stain On the fair White Rose of Renown, To have fallen, fighting in vain, For thy father, thy faith, and thy crown! More than thy marble pile, With its women weeping for thee, Were to dream in thine ancient isle, To the endless dirge of the sea! But the Fates deemed otherwise, Far thou sleepest from home, From the tears of the Northern...
Page 40 - Ah, Golden Eyes, to win you yet, I bring mine April coronet, The lovely blossoms of the spring, For you I weave, to you I bring These roses with the lilies set, The dewy dark-eyed violet, Narcissus, and the wind-flower wet: Wilt thou disdain mine offering? Ah, Golden Eyes! Crowned with thy lover's flowers, forget The pride wherein thy heart is set, For thou, like these or anything, Has but a moment of thy spring, Thy spring, and then — the long regret! Ah, Golden Eyes!
Page 108 - LADY'S TOMB. RONSARD, 1550. As in the gardens, all through May, the rose, Lovely, and young, and fair apparelled, Makes sunrise jealous of her rosy red, When dawn upon the dew of dawning glows; Graces and Loves within her breast repose, The woods are faint with the sweet odour shed, Till rains and heavy suns have smitten dead The languid flower, and the loose leaves unclose, — So this, the perfect beauty of our days, When earth and heaven were vocal of her praise, The fates have slain, and her...
Page 104 - THE year has changed his mantle cold Of wind, of rain, of bitter air; And he goes clad in cloth of gold, Of laughing suns and season fair; No bird or beast of wood or wold But doth with cry or song declare The year lays down his mantle cold.
Page 24 - Love WHO wins his Love shall lose her, Who loses her shall gain, For still the spirit wooes her, A soul without a stain; And Memory still pursues her With longings not in vain! He loses her who gains her, Who watches day by day The dust of time that stains her, The griefs that leave her gray, The flesh that yet enchains her Whose grace hath passed away! Oh, happier he who gains not...
Page 16 - The humors of the ape, the daw. And in the lion or the frog,— In all the life of moor and fen, — In ass and peacock, stork and dog, He read similitudes of men. " Of these, from those," he cried, " we come, Our hearts, our brains descend from these.
Page 2 - Alas, what price would not thy people bring To win that portrait of the ruinous Gulf of devouring years that hide the Maid from us ! Born of a lowly line, Noteless as once was thine, One of that name I would were kin to me, Who, in the Scottish Guard Won this for his reward, To fight for France, and memory of thee : Not upon us, dark Lily without blame, Not on the North may fall the shadow of that shame. On France and England...
Page ii - THE BLUE POETRY BOOK. Edited by ANDREW LANG. With 12 Plates and 88 Illustrations in the Text by HJ FORD and LANCELOT SPEED. Crown 8vo., 6s. Special Edition, printed on India paper.