PSEUDONYMS AND LITERARY

SOBRIQUETS.

THE authority is, in most cases, Initials and Pseudonyms by William Cushing, B.A., 1885. The pseudonyms include such as were used by an author in his prose as well as his poetical works, but not the author's own initials where that has been used as a literary disguise in either instance.

ANE OF THAT ILK.

ARCHEUS

BACKWOODSMAN

JOHN STERLING. Pseudonym used in contributions to Blackwood. THOMAS D'ARCY McGee. The Crown and the Confederation, 1840.

Bard of Rydal Mount, The. WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.

INDEX OF FIRST LINES.

ABOU BEN ADHEM (may his tribe increase)
A cypress-bough, and a rose-wreath sweet
Ah why do men, or Gods who ought to see
Amid these wilds

Among the hills of Athol he was born
And hast thou sought thy heavenly home
And now, reposing from his toil awhile
A noble range it was, of many a rood
'Artemidora! Gods invisible'

A winter day! the feather-silent snow
Before thy leaves thou com'st once more
Beneath an ash in beauty tender leaved
Cheered with this hope, to Paris I returned
Child, is thy father dead?

Come hither, Evan Cameron

Come in the evening, or come in the morning
Dark, deep, and cold the current flows
Day, like our souls, is fiercely dark

Die down, O dismal day! and let me live
Ere we retired

Every gem

Flowers! winter flowers!- the child is dead.

From this entangling labyrinthine maze

Gebir, at Egypt's youthful queen's approach

Great was the likeness that the brothers bore

Green little vaulter in the sunny grass

He found a Woman in the cave . .

Here oft, with fading cheek and thoughtful brow

Here, where precipitate-Spring with one light bound

112

I had a world about me —'t was my own

I have harnessed thee, my Steed of shining gray
I have seen

I loved him not; and yet now he is gone

I'm sittin' on the stile, Mary

In its summer pride arrayed

In one of those excursions (may they ne'er
Iphigeneia, when she heard her doom

It is the flower which (pious rustics say)

It was a shady and sequestered scene

It was a summer evening

I would not give my Irish wife

Jenny kissed me when we met

King Francis was a hearty king, and loved a royal sport

Led by the sound

Let kings throw largesses around, let earth

Let Taylor preach upon a morning breezy

Lonely from my home I come

254

Meantime, with pomp august and solemn, borne
Merry, merry little stream.

82

179

Milton! thou should'st be living at this hour
My Love is as fresh as the morning sky
Nay, hear me first,' cried Dalica, ''t is hard

No draught from magic herb or flower.
Nor there are children of the young year seen
Now to Aurora borne by dappled steeds
Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray
O gems of Ocean, shining here and there
O, happy, happy thrice happy state.
Oh friend, whom glad or grave we seek

57

264

87

226

129

88

54

108

172

116