Contents -BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900.

Index of First Lines

Nay but you, who do not love her to Round the cape of a sudden came the sea

Nay but you, who do not love her Near to the silver Trent Never seek to tell thy love Never weather-beaten sail more willing bent to shore New doth the sun appear News from a foreign country came Nightingale, as soon as April bringeth Nobly, nobly Cape Saint Vincent to the North-west died away No coward soul is mine No, no! go not to Lethe, neither twist Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note Not, Celia, that I juster am Nothyng ys to man so dere Not ours, say some, the thought of death to dread Not unto us, O Lord Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white Now the lusty spring is seen Now the North wind ceases Now winter nights enlarge Nuns fret not at their convent’s narrow room O brignall banks are wild and fair O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done O Christ of God! whose life and death O come, soft rest of cares! come, Night! O earth, lie heavily upon her eyes Of all the flowers rising now Of all the girls that are so smart Of all the torments, all the cares Of a’ the airts the wind can blaw O fly, my Soul! What hangs upon O fly not, Pleasure, pleasant-hearted Pleasure Of Nelson and the North Of Neptune’s empire let us sing Of on that is so fayr and bright O for some honest lover’s ghost O for the mighty wakening that aroused O friend! I know not which way I must look Often I think of the beautiful town Oft, in the stilly night O goddess! hear these tuneless numbers, wrung O happy dames! that may embrace O happy Tithon! if thou know’st thy hap Oh how comely it is and how reviving O how much more doth beauty beauteous seem O I hae come from far away O joy of creation O lusty May, with Flora queen! O many a day have I made good ale in the glen O Mary, at thy window be O Mary, go and call the cattle home O memory, thou fond deceiver O mistress mine, where are you roaming? O mortal folk, you may behold and see O my Dark Rosaleen O my deir hert, young Jesus sweit O my Luve ‘s like a red, red rose On a day—alack the day! On a starr’d night Prince Lucifer uprose On a time the amorous Silvy Once did she hold the gorgeous East in fee On either side the river lie One more Unfortunate O never say that I was false of heart One word is too often profaned Only tell her that I love On parent knees, a naked new-born child On the deck of Patrick Lynch’s boat I sat in woful plight On the Sabbath-day On the wide level of a mountain’s head O perfect Light, which shaid away O’re the smooth enameld green Orpheus with his lute made trees O ruddier than the cherry! O saw ye bonnie Lesley O saw ye not fair Ines? O sing unto my roundelay O sleep, my babe, hear not the rippling wave O soft embalmer of the still midnight! O sorrow! O that ’twere possible O the sad day! Others abide our question. Thou art free O thou, by Nature taught O thou that swing’st upon the waving hair O thou undaunted daughter of desires! O thou with dewy locks, who lookest down O time! who know’st a lenient hand to lay O to be in England O turn away those cruel eyes Out of the night that covers me Out upon it, I have loved Over hill, over dale Over the mountains Over the sea our galleys went O waly, waly, up the bank O were my Love yon lilac fair O western wind, when wilt thou blow O what a plague is love! O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms O wha will shoe my bonny foot? O which is the last rose? O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn’s being O world, be nobler, for her sake! O world, in very truth thou art too young O yonge fresshe folkes, he or she O you plant the pain in my heart with your wistful eyes Pack, clouds, away! and welcome, day! Passing away, saith the World, passing away Passions are liken’d best to floods and streams Past ruin’d Ilion Helen lives Peace, Shepherd, peace! What boots it singing on? Perfect little body, without fault or stain on thee Phoebus, arise! Piping down the valleys wild Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth Praise is devotion fit for mighty minds Pray but one prayer for me ‘twixt thy closed lips Proud Maisie is in the wood Proud word you never spoke, but you will speak Pure stream, in whose transparent wave Put your head, darling, darling, darling Queen and huntress, chaste and fair Queen of fragrance, lovely Rose Quhen Flora had o’erfret the firth Quoth tongue of neither maid nor wife Rain set early in to-night Red rose whispers of passion Reivers they stole Fair Annie Remain, ah not in youth alone! Remember me when I am gone away Return, return! all night my lamp is burning Ring, so worn as you behold Rise, said the Master, come unto the feast Robin sat on gude green hill Roll forth, my song, like the rushing river Rorate coeli desuper! Rose-cheek’d Laura, come Roses, their sharp spines being gone Rose was sick and smiling died Round the cape of a sudden came the sea