The First Attempt to Reach the S… Where is the painter who shall pai… My Austral brothers, with a penci… In hues of Truth, the weather-smi… Who gazed on unknown shores—a thou…

THE STRONG sob of the chafing… That seaward fights its way Down crags of glitter, dells of gl… Is in the hills to-day. But far and faint, a grey-winged f…

THAT LOVE of letters which is… Of deathless verse, intense, ineff… Hath made this scholar’s nature li… Pure Roman soul of whom the poets… He having lived so long with lords…

The warrigal’s lair is pent in bar… Black rocks at the gorge’s mouth; It is set in ways where Summer st… With the sprites of flame and drou… But when the heights are touched w…

She knelt by the dead, in her pass… Beneath a weird forest of Tanna; She kissed the stern brow of her f… And cursed the dark race of Alkan… With faces as wild as the clouds i…

THE SONG of the water Doomed ever to roam, A beautiful exile, Afar from its home. The cliffs on the mountain,

AS WHEN the strong stream of a… Rolls round our coast, with bodefu… And swift salt rain, and bitter wi… Wild things and woeful of the Whi… Alone with God and silence in the…

HE HAS a name which can’t be bro… Within the sphere of metre; But, as he’s Peter by report, I’ll trot him out as Peter. I call him mine; but don’t suppose

Like a beautiful face looking ever… A pure bright moon cometh over the… And I stand on the crags, and hea… Go tumbling down, through the blac… And the heart of the gorge is rent…

Rolling through the gloomy gorges,… With a sound of torrents flying, l… And, beneath the shaggy forelands,… Fly, like wild hounds, at the dark… Swooping round the sunken caverns,…

Like drifts of balm from cedared g… With soft low songs, and dear old… Then breathe again that faint refr… My soul turns round with listening… The fragments of a broken Past ar…

WIZENED the wood is, and wan is… White as a corpse is the face of t… Only blue adders abide in and stra… Adders and venom and horrors to me… Here is the “ghost of a garden” wh…

As you glided and glided before us… A mystical, magical maiden, We fancied we looked on a face fro… Where the poets have builded their… And oh, the sweet shadows! And oh…

Gloomy cliffs, so worn and wasted… Are ye not like giant tombstones r… Are ye not the sad memorials, tell… Dark with records ground and lette… Oh! ye show them, and I know them…

IT LIES amongst the sleeping st… Far down the hidden mountain glade… And past its brink the torrent moa… For ever in a dreamy shade. A little patch of dark-green moss,