PHILIP, MY KING Look at me with thy large brown eyes, Round whom the enshadowing purple lies With love's invisible sceptre laden; I am thine Esther to command Till thou shalt find a queen-handmaiden, Oh the day when thou goest a-wooing, When some beautiful lips 'gin suing, For we that love, ah! we love so blindly, "DOWGLAS, DOWGLAS, TENDIR AND TREU" COULD ye come back to me, Douglas, Douglas, In the old likeness that I knew, Never a scornful word should grieve ye, I'd smile on ye sweet as the angels do: Sweet as your smile on me shone ever, Douglas, Douglas, tender and true. Up from thy sweet mouth,-up to thy Oh, to call back the days that are not! My eyes were blinded, your words were few: EARL OF SOUTHESK · MORTIMER COLLINS Earl of Southesk (SIR JAMES CARNEGIE) THE FLITCH OF DUNMOW COME Micky and Molly and dainty Dolly, Come to the top of the hill. For there are Jenny and jovial Joe ; By apple and berry, 't is twelve months merry Since Jenny and Joe were wed! So Joe and Jenny are off to Dunmow : Oh, Jenny's as pretty as doves in a ditty ; And Jenny, her eyes are black; And Joey's a fellow as merry and mellow As ever shoulder'd a sack. So quick, good people, and come to the show! Merry and merry, merry they go, They've prank'd up old Dobbin with ribands and bobbin, And tether'd his tail in a string! The fat flitch of bacon is not to be taken By many that wear the ring! Good luck, good luck, to Jenny and Joe! Jolly and jolly, jolly they go. Hark! how merry they sing. "O merry, merry, merry are we, Happy as birds that sing in a tree! All of the neighbors are merry to-day, 315 "O happy, happy, happy is life “O jolly, jolly, jolly we go, I and my Jenny, and she and her Joe. NOVEMBER'S CADENCE THE bees about the Linden-tree, When youth its wanton way was winging: "Be glad, be sad-thou hast the choice But mingle music with thy voice. The linnets on the Linden-tree, "Be sad, be sad, thou hast no choice, Mortimer Collins A GREEK IDYL HE sat the quiet stream beside, His white feet laving in the tide, And watch'd the pleasant waters glide Unheard; his tranquil haunt she found That beautiful new comer. THE IVORY GATE He said- "My own Glycerium! Sunt geminae Somni portae: quarum altera fertur VERGIL. WHEN, lov'd by poet and painter, Then visions strange, uncertain, Pour thick through the Ivory Gate. Then the oars of Ithaca dip so At war with the words of Fate, Or, clad in the hide of leopard, His sweet Oenone wooes : While the tune of the false one's idyl Or down from green Helvellyn To the winds of Windermere: Who sweeps through the Ivory Gate. Ah, the vision of dawn is leisure - Which guards the realms of Fate, High on the hill-top The old King sits; Columbkill he crosses, From Slieveleague to Rosses; Or going up with music On cold starry nights, To sup with the Queen Of the gay Northern Lights. They stole little Bridget For seven years long ; When she came down again Her friends were all gone. They took her lightly back, Between the night and morrow, They thought that she was fast asleep, But she was dead with sorrow. They have kept her ever since Deep within the lakes, On a bed of flag-leaves, By the craggy hill-side, Through the mosses bare, They have planted thorn-trees For pleasure here and there. Is any man so daring Up the airy mountain, For fear of little men; Trooping all together; Green jacket, red cap, And white owl's feather! LOVELY MARY DONNELLY Он, lovely Mary Donnelly, it's you I love the best! If fifty girls were round you I'd hardly see the rest. Be what it may the time of day, the place be where it will, Sweet looks of Mary Donnelly, they bloom before me still. |