Come, all you brave gallants, and… With hey down, down, an a down, That are in the bowers within; For of Robin Hood, that archer go… A song I intend for to sing.

Rob Roy from the Highlands cam, Unto the Lawlan’ border, To steal awa a gay ladie To haud his house in order. He cam oure the lock o’ Lynn,

When Lent and Responsions are end… When May with fritillaries waits, When the flower of the chestnut is… When drags are at all of the gates (Those drags the philosopher 'slat…

Of all the lords in faire Scotlan… A song I will begin: Amongst them all dwelled a lord Which was the unthrifty Lord of L… His father and mother were dead hi…

Apollo left the golden Muse And shepherded a mortal’s sheep, Theocritus of Syracuse! To mock the giant swain that woo’s The sea-nymph in the sunny deep,

“And now am I greatly repenting t… ’Tis thought Odysseus when the st… With all the waves and wars, a wea… Grew restless in his disenchanted… And still would watch the sunset,…

Whan he cam to his ain luve’s boui… He tirled at the pin, And sae ready was his fair fause l… To rise and let him in. ‘O welcome, welcome, Sir Roland,’…

In the Aves of Aristophanes, the Bird Chorus declare that they are older than the Gods, and greater benefactors of men. This idea recurs in almost all savage mythologies, and I have ma...

False Sir John a wooing came To a maid of beauty fair; May Colven was this lady’s name, Her father’s only heir. He wood her butt, he wood her ben,

The incident is from the Love Sto… The daughter of the Lesbian king Within her bower she watched the w… Far off she heard the arrows ring, The smitten harness ring afar;

Here stand my books, line upon lin… They reach the roof, and row by ro… They speak of faded tastes of mine… And things I did, but do not, kno… Old school books, useless long ago…

There is a Heaven, or here, or th… A Heaven there is, for me and you… Where bargains meet for purses spa… Like ours, are not so far and few. Thuanus’ bees go humming through

Fair Amaryllis, wilt thou never p… From forth the cave, and call me,… Lo, apples ten I bear thee from t… These didst thou long for, and all… Ah, would I were a honey-bee to s…

St. Andrews by the Northern sea, A haunted town it is to me! A little city, worn and grey, The grey North Ocean girds it rou… And o’er the rocks, and up the bay…

My heart’s an old Spinet with str… To laughter chiefly tuned, but som… That Fate has practised hard on,… They answer not whoever sings. The ghosts of half-forgotten thing…