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Achilles Agamemnon answer Apollo Atreus aught bear Begin brave bring broad called Chapter chief child comes Daphnis dark dear death dreams earth eyes face fair fear fell flocks gave gaze gift give gods Greeks green hand hath head hear heard heart heaven host hour King knew land leaves light lines lips live look lord maid Maiden mighty mind morn ne'er neath never night o'er once pass pipe play range rest rich rose round seas ships side sing sire sleep smile soft song sons soul spake spring stand stars stood stream sweet tell thee thine thing thou thought turn unto voice walls wild woods young Zeus
Page 438 - IF all the world and love were young, And truth in every shepherd's tongue, These pretty pleasures might me move To live with thee and be thy love.
Page 438 - And I will make thee beds of roses And a thousand fragrant posies, A cap of flowers, and a kirtle Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle.
Page 454 - Wisely regardful of the embroiling sky, In joyless fields and thorny thickets leaves His shivering mates, and pays to trusted man His annual visit. Half afraid, he first Against the window beats ; then, brisk, alights On the warm hearth ; then, hopping o'er the floor, Eyes all the smiling family askance, And pecks, and starts, and wonders where he is ; Till more familiar grown, the table-crumbs Attract his slender feet.
Page 462 - I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so oft In life's morning march, when my bosom was young ; I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft, And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers sung...
Page 452 - Tis brightness all ; save where the new snow melts Along the mazy current. Low the woods Bow their hoar head ; and ere the languid sun, Faint from the west, emits his evening ray, Earth's universal face, deep hid and chill, Is one wild dazzling waste, that buries wide The works of man.
Page 444 - Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy autumn fields, And thinking of the days that are no more.
Page xxxiii - For we were nursed upon the self-same hill, Fed the same flock, by fountain, shade, and rill.
Page 492 - But blessings on your frosty pow, John Anderson, my jo. John Anderson, my jo, John, We clamb the hill thegither ; And mony a canty day, John, We've had wi...