And rain on the house top,
But not on me!
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ICHOT a burde in boure bryht,
Menskful maiden of myht;Feir ant fre to fonde;In al this wurhliche wonA burde of blod ant of bonNever yete y nuste nonLussomore in londe.Blou northerne wynd!Send thou me my suetyng!Blou northerne wynd! blou, blou, blou!With lokkes lefliche ant longe,With frount ant face feir to fonge,With murthes monie mote heo monge,That brid so breme in boure.With…
I SING of a maiden
King of all kingsTo her son she ches.He came al so stillThere his mother was,As dew in AprilThat falleth on the grass.He came al so stillTo his mother’s bour,As dew in AprilThat falleth on the flour.He came al so stillThere his mother lay,As dew in AprilThat falleth on the spray.Mother and maidenWas never none but…
Epilogue To The Padlock
October 1787Mr. Urban, Sept.24.The following Epilogue to ‘The Padlock’ was written by a very worthy Clergyman, soon after the first representation of that opera. The author of this little poem died in the Summer of 1786, and, having never been published, a copy of it is presented to your Magazine, by one who agrees in…
Godfrey Gordon Gustuvus Gore
His Father would Plead and mother imploreGodfrey Gordon Please Shut the door.
The king sits in Dumferling toune,
‘O whar will I get guid sailor,To sail this schip of mine?’Up and spak an eldern knicht,Sat at the kings richt kne:‘Sir Patrick Spence is the best sailorThat sails upon the se.’The king has written a braid letter,And signd it wi his hand,And sent it to Sir Patrick Spence,Was walking on the sand.The first line…
WEEP you no more, sad fountains;
Look how the snowy mountainsHeaven’s sun doth gently waste!But my Sun’s heavenly eyesView not your weeping,That now lies sleepingSoftly, now softly liesSleeping.Sleep is a reconciling,A rest that peace begets;Doth not the sun rise smilingWhen fair at even he sets?Rest you then, rest, sad eyes!Melt not in weeping,While she lies sleepingSoftly, now softly liesSleeping.
And rain on the house top,
But not on me!
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You’ll tell her, won’t you? Say to her I died
She’ll bear it better if a though of priceComes in to stay her, the first shock o’erpast!You’ll tell her, won’t you? Show her how I layPressing the pictured lips I loved so well;And how my last thoughts floated far away,To home and her, with love I could not tell.You’ll tell her, won’t you? – not…
Old Mother Seward,
To get her dog a Union bone.She got to Manassas,And saw them harrass us –Lord! how Mother Seward did groan.
The first Nowell the Angel did say
In fields where they lay keeping their sheepIn a cold winter’s night that was so deep.Nowell, Nowell, Nowell, Nowell,Born is the King of Israel.They looked up and saw a StarShining in the East beyond them far,And to the earth it gave great light,And so it continued both day and night.Nowell, Nowell, Nowell, Nowell,Born is the…
Lenten ys come with love to toun{.e},
That al this bliss{.e} bryngeth;Dayes-ey{.e}s in this dal{.e}s;Not{.e}s suete of nyht{.e}gal{.e}s;Uch foul song singeth.The threstelcoc him threteth oo;Away is huer{.e} wynter woo,When woderov{.e} springeth.This foul{.e}s singeth ferly fel{.e},And wlyteth on huere wynter wel{.e},That al the wod{.e} ryngeth.The ros{.e} rayleth hir{.e} rode;The lev{.e}s on the lyht{.e} wod{.e}Waxen al with will{.e}.The mon{.e} mandeth hir{.e} bleo;The lili{.e} is…
In the Day ere Man came,
They came togetherThe Father, the Mother,Debating.‘Forever they shall live,‘Our Children,‘When they are born Men,‘Forever they shall live,’Said the Father,Said the Mother.But the little Bird cried,Ah, the little Bird cried:‘How shall I nest me –‘How shall I nest me‘In their warm graves‘If men live forever?’
I have a gentil cock
he doth me risen earlymy matins for to stayI have a gentil cockcomen he is of greathis comb is of red coralhis tail is of jetI have a gentil cockcomen he is of kindhis comb is of red sorrelhis tail is of indehis legs be of azureso gentil and so smallhis spurs are of silver…