Poems on Travel - Unknown

P. [99]. Calverley.—This is a portion only of the poem.

P. [118]. Cowper.—An extract from the long poem of the same title.

P. [121]. Stevenson.—By permission of Messrs. Chatto & Windus (and Messrs. Scribner's Sons in regard to the American rights).

[INDEX OF FIRST LINES]

A wreath of light blue vapour, pure and rare, [68]
Adieu, ye joys of La Valette!, [80]
All along the valley, stream that flashest white, [22]
Arno wins us to the fair white walls, [56]
At Antwerp, there is a low wall, [112]
Brook and road, [34]
Come down, O maid, from yonder mountain height, [21]
England, we love thee better than we know, [77]
Far on its rocky knoll descried, [12]
Farewell, farewell! Before our prow, [99]
Glion?——Ah, twenty years, it cuts, [36]
Had Cain been Scot, God would have changed his doom, [121]
Happy is England! I could be content, [39]
Hast thou a charm to stay the morning-star, [14]
Holland, that scarce deserves the name of land, [113]
I cannot rest from travel: I will drink, [7]
I do remember me, that in my youth, [60]
I gaze upon a city, [116]
I have known cities with the strong-armed Rhine, [107]
I leave thee, beauteous Italy! no more, [74]
I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs, [53]
I travelled among unknown men, [9]
Illyrian woodlands, echoing falls, [81]
In front the awful Alpine track, [35]
In Köhln, a town of monks and bones, [98]
In the market-place of Bruges stands the belfry old and brown, [108]
In the steamy, stuffy Midlands, 'neath an English summer sky, [26]
In the valley of the Pegnitz, where across broad meadow-lands, [103]
Is this, ye Gods, the Capitolian Hill?, [62]
It is not only that the sun, [83]
Lo! Cintra's glorious Eden intervenes, [25]
Many a vanished year and age, [88]
Never, oh never more shall I behold, [38]
No plainer truth appears, [118]
No sound of wheels or hoof-beat breaks, [44]
Nobly, nobly Cape Saint Vincent to the North-west died away, [77]
Nowhere I sojourn but I thence depart, [73]
O beautiful beneath the magic moon, [55]
O love, what hours were thine and mine, [40]
Oh, come to Rome, it is a pleasant place, [56]
Oh, thou Parnassus! whom I now survey, [87]
On her still lake the city sits, [55]
Once more upon the woody Apennine, [47]
Over the great windy waters, and over the clear-crested summits, [7]
Quick, painter, quick, the moment seize, [23]
Remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow, [8]
Say, hast thou tracked a traveller's round, [76]
Seven weeks of sea, and twice seven days of storm, [78]
Sweet the memory is to me, [69]
Tanagra! think not I forget, [89]
Ten years!—and to my waking eye, [38]
The castled crag of Drachenfels, [96]
The ceaseless rain is falling fast, [5]
The gauger walked with willing foot, [121]
The Germans for Learning enjoy great repute, [99]
The Lady of the Hills with crimes untold, [32]
The nodding promontories and blue isles, [86]
The skies have sunk, and hid the upper snow, [18]
The Spirit of Antiquity—enshrined, [108]
Then fly our greetings, fly our speech and smiles!, [79]
There is a glorious City in the sea, [51]
There lies a vale in Ida, lovelier, [20]
They stand between the mountains and the sea, [66]
They warred with Nature, as of old with gods, [29]
Thirty-two years since, up against the sun, [31]
Through Alpine meadows, soft-suffused, [13]
Tibur is beautiful, too, and the orchard slopes, and the Anio, [64]
Traverse not the globe for lore! The sternest, [120]
Underneath Day's azure eyes, [52]
Vain is the effort to forget, [95]
Vallombrosa! I longed in thy shadiest wood, [65]
Vallombrosa! of thee I first heard in the page, [65]
Verona! thy tall gardens stand erect, [46]
What power is this? what witchery wins my feet, [33]
What's become of Waring, [91]
Where lies the land to which yon ship must go?, [10]
Where, upon Apennine slope, with the chestnut the oak-trees immingle, [48]
'Wherefore the "city of the violet crown"?', [85]
While with labour assiduous due pleasure I mix, [114]
Whither, O splendid ship, thy white sails crowding, [11]
Who, then, was Cestius, [62]
Why, Tourist, why, [97]
Why, wedded to the Lord, still yearns my heart, [75]
Your ghost will walk, you lover of trees, [49]