My sister! my sweet sister! if a name
My soul is dark-Oh! quickly string

Nay, smile not at my sullen brow.
No breath of air to break the wave

PAGE

53

31

160

209

Not in those climes where I have late been straying 152

O Love! O Glory! what are you who fly
O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea
Of all the dresses I select Haidée's
Oh, Mariamne! now for thee

Oh Rome! my country! city of the soul!
Oh! snatch'd away in beauty's bloom

Oh, talk not to me of a name great in story
Oh! that the Desert were my dwelling-place
Oh, thou! in Hellas deem'd of heavenly birth
Oh, thou Parnassus! whom I now survey
Oh, Venice! Venice! when thy marble walls.
Oh! weep for those that wept by Babel's stream
Oh, Wellington! (or Villainton'—for Fame
On Jordan's banks the Arab's camels stray
Once more in man's frail world! which I had left
Once more upon the woody Apennine
One struggle more, and I am free .

416

216

405

39

Our life is two-fold: Sleep hath its own world

57

Remember him, whom passion's power
River, that rollest by the ancient walls

16

79

Saint Peter sat by the celestial gate
She walks in beauty, like the night

125

26-

Since our country, our God-Oh, my sire!

30

Slow sinks, more lovely ere his race be run
So Castlereagh has cut his throat!

So He has cut his throat at last!
So now the Doge is nothing, and at last
So, we'll go no more a roving

Son of the morning, rise! approach you here!
Still must I hear?-shall hoarse Fitzgerald bawl
Stop!-for thy tread is on an Empire's dust!
Strahan, Tonson, Lintot of the times

Sun of the sleepless! melancholy star!

PAGE

Talk not of seventy years as age; in seven
The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold
The black bands came over

The braziers, it seems, are preparing to pass
The castled crag of Drachenfels

The harp the monarch minstrel swept
The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece!
The King was on his throne.

424

41
373

85

175

27

407

36

The lamp must be replenish'd, but even then .
The moon is up, and yet it is not night.

309

188

The roar of waters!—from the headlong height
The ship, call'd the most holy Trinidada'
The Spirit of the fervent days of Old

192

389

296

The sun went down, the smoke rose up, as from

4:0

The wars are over

378

The winds are high on Helle's wave
The world is a bundle of hay

There be none of Beauty's daughters
There is a stern round tower of other days
There is a tomb in Arqua ;-rear'd in air
There on the green and village-cotted hill, is
There sunk the greatest, nor the worst of men
There's doubtless something in domestic doings
There's not a joy the world can give
They say that Hope is happiness .

Thine eyes' blue tenderness, thy long fair hair

Thy cheek is pale with thought, but not from woe .

Thy days are done, thy fame begun
'Tis done but yesterday a King!.

'Tis sweet to hear

'Tis the morn, but dim and dark

"Tis time this heart should be unmoved
Titan! to whose immortal eyes
To be the father of the fatherless
T'our tale.-The feast was over,

'Twas after dread Pultowa's day.

Warriors and chiefs! should the shaft or the sword
We do not curse thee, Waterloo !

·

We learn from Horace, Homer sometimes sleeps'
We sat down and wept by the waters

Weep, daughter of a royal line

Well! thou art happy, and I feel.

Were my bosom as false as thou deem'st it to be

What are you doing now

What is the worst of woes that wait on age
What matter the pangs of a husband and father
When a man hath no freedom to fight for at home.
When all around grew drear and dark

When coldness wraps this suffering clay

When Time, or soon or late, shall bring.
When we two parted

34

44

412

40

16

3

38

71

168

85

85

50

35

11

2

Where rose the mountains, there to him were friends 169

Who kill'd John Keats?

With all its sinful doings, I must say

With death doom'd to grapple

86
380

84

HE best recommendation of The World's Classics is the books themselves, which have earned unstinted praise from critics and all classes of the public. Some two million. copies have been sold, and of the volumes already published very many have gone into, a second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth, ninth, tenth, or later impression. It is only possible to give so much for the money when large sales are certain. The clearness of the type, the quality of the paper, the size of the page, the printing, and the binding from the cheapest to the bestcannot fail to commend themselves to all who love good literature presented in worthy. form. That a high standard is insisted upon is proved by the list of books already published and of those on the eve of publication. A great feature is the brief critical introductions written by leading authorities of the day.

A

NUMBER of the volumes are issued in the Oxford Library of Standard Works, the size and type as The World's Classics, but bound in Italian, thin boards, gilt designs, gilt top, and in Suède, yapp edges, gilt top, both with bookmarker. These are specially recommended for presentation. (The volumes are obtainable only through the booksellers.)