How Œdipous departed, who may tell Save Theseus only? for there neit… The burning bolt of thunder, and t… To blast him into nothing, nor the… Of sea-tide spurred by tempest on…

Fair islands of the silver fleece, Hoards of unsunned, uncounted gold… Whose havens are the haunts of Pe… Whose boys are in our quarrel bold… OUR bolt is shot, our tale is tol…

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.

Nay, be you pardoner or cheat, Or cogger keen, or mumper shy, You’ll burn your fingers at the fe… And howl like other folks that fry… All evil folks that love a lie!

Not Jason nor Medea wise, I crave to see, nor win much lore, Nor list to Orpheus’ minstrelsies… Nor Her’cles would I see, that o’… The wide world roamed from shore t…

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,’…

When strawberry pottles are common… Ere elms be black, or limes be ser… When midnight dances are murdering… Then comes in the sweet o’ the yea… And far from Fleet Street, far fr…

Ah, listen through the music, from… The 'melancholy long-withdrawing r… Beneath the Minster, and the wind… The wide North Ocean, marshalling… Even so forlorn—in worlds beyond o…

Friend, when you bear a care-dulle… And brow perplexed with things of… And fain would bid some charm unti… The bonds that hold you all too st… Behold a solace to your fate,

Four-and-twenty bonny boys Were playing at the ba, And by it came him sweet Sir Hugh… And he playd o’er them a’. He kickd the ba with his right foo…

He lived in a cave by the seas, He lived upon oysters and foes, But his list of forbidden degrees, An extensive morality shows; Geological evidence goes

Dark, dark was the day when we loo… And chill was the mist drop that c… The oats of the harvest hung heavy… No light on the land and no wind o… There was wind, there was rain, th…

Down Deeside cam Inveraye Whistlin’ and playing, An’ called loud at Brackley gate Ere the day dawning— ‘Come, Gordon of Brackley.

Between the moonlight and the fire In winter twilights long ago, What ghosts we raised for your des… To make your merry blood run slow! How old, how grave, how wise we gr…

While others are asking for beauty… Or praying to know that for which… Or courting Queen Venus, that aff… Or chasing the Muses the weary an… The sage has found out a more exce…