584 INDEX OF FIRST LINES. In reverend guise this ancient pile survey In slumbers of midnight the sailor-boy lay In the halls of Pompeii resounded the song In the palace, in the cottage. In vain I lament what is past In vast and boundless solitude he stands Iron was his chest Is solitude a burden to thy soul It is enough for crime to once begin It is not that I cannot see It is not youth can give content It is the hour when winds and waves It is their summer haunt :-a giant oak It should be brief, if lengthy, it will steep It was a' for our richtfu' king It was about the feast of Christmas-tide. It was merry once in England It's of a young lord o' the Hielands It's very hard you must admit I've pleasant thoughts which memory brings I've wandered far from thee, mother ACK eating mitey cheese did say JACK Jack Dash, in town a first-rate beau Jenny is poor, and I am poor Jerusalem's curse was not fulfilled in me Jocky said to Jenny, "Jenny wilt thou wed?" Joe Wood, he was a carpenter Johnny, man, ye're gaun to dwall PAGE 223 72 374 415 131 236 134 448 560 563 127 242 563 170 279 566 159 118 144 404 253 263 386 457 268 131 574 574 474 299 566 481 429 571 505 444 436 446 329 58 138 215 564 60 Jolly shepherd, shepherd on a hill KEEP pushing 'tis wiser than sitting aside Keep silence lest the rocks in thunder fall Know'st thou the land where the hardy green LA ADY BEL, who in public bewails her dead spouse Lady! what cruel doom is thine Let him who hates dancing ne'er go to a ball . 562 Let others with poetic fire 489 Let this album bright-souled maiden 145 Life's like an inn where travellers stay 577 Linger not long! Home is not home without thee. 271 Listen! love of mine, O listen 271 Little shoes and stockings 286 Live well, die never 570 Long the sun hath gone to rest 26 Lord Endless walking to the Hall Love dwells not in the sparkling blaze 513 40 421 330 332 375 94 My Beltane o' life and my gay days are gane. 354 554 My chaise the village inn did gain. 305 My country, o'er thy mountains wild 398 My day is dippin' in the west 296 My dear, what makes you always yawn My God!" the beauty oft exclaimed My lad's a braw and bonnie lad My Lilla gave me yester-morn My love was born in Aberdeen My sad tears flow and weep lost worth My spouse and I full many a year. Mysterious plant! whose golden tresses wave NAE mair in Cargen's woody glens Nature hath done her part: do thou but thine. New England's annoyances: ye that would know them Night hurrying sails away across the waters 565 81 408 321 403 550 572 199 356 567 300 157 126 586 INDEX OF FIRST LINES. No sounds of labour vexed the quiet air a' the rants, o' a' the reels O Allister McAllister O Charlie is my darling. O dinna forget, lassie, dinna forget. Observe what wisdom shines in that decree O'er economy some have such perfect command Oh, could I find from day to day Oh, for a last look before I die Oh, firm as oak, and free from care. Oh, for the dreamless rest of those. child Oh, 'tis a touching thing to make one weep Oh, 'tis all one to me, all one. Oh, waken up, my darlin' my Dermot, it is day Old Orpheus played so well On a smooth grassy knoll by the murmuring shore On earth, while onward Time doth roll On Ettrick's banks in a summer night On his deathbed poor Lubin lies Out from tower and from steeple rang the sudden New-Year bells 146 She comes! she comes! with her flashing eyes 168 Sieze thy pencil, child of art. She is my only girl Should Gaelic speech be e'er forgot? Since our foes to invade us have long been preparing Sleep soft in dust: wait the Almighty's will Slept you well? Very well." My draught did good Some sing of roast beef, and some sing of kail brose Some sing the peaceful pleasures of the plain Some talk of Alexander. Something should remain unseen Songster of the russet coat Speak it not lightly! 'tis a holy thing Spirit of God, that moved of old Star of the evening! How I love to mark Star of the morn, whose placid ray. 282 445 325 340 573 567 501 431 397 116 202 118 12 29 TAKE a robin's leg Take ye the world-thus, from his height sublime Tell me, ye viewless spirits of the air That autumn leaf is sere and dead. That setting sun-that setting sun The barber shaves with polished blade The brakes with golden flowers were crowned. 197 54 538 218 The bud is on the bough, and the leaf is in the bud The camp may have its fame, the Court its glare The dreamy night draws nigh 167 269 163 417 59 26 112 The glorious heaven its golden tinting throws. The Polar clouds uplift-a moment and no more 214 The poor man will praise it, so hath he good cause The promised seed is born, no Ishmael now 346 416 47 76 |