Having found every endeavour vain to discover the address of the Misses Hawker, I have ventured to reprint _The Doom of St Madron_, by the late R. S. Hawker, without their permission, the publishers, Messrs Kegan Paul & Co., offering no objection so far as they are concerned. From the works of Tennyson, Mr Wm. Morris, and a few others, I should have made selections, had not the permission been, to my great regret, withheld. d. In the preparation of the Irish group I have been very materially assisted by Mr Alfred Percival Graves, who has advised my selection and given me the free use of all his own work; and by Mr David J. O'Donoghue, author of the _Dictionary of the Poets and Poetry of Ireland_, who has devoted much time to supplying me with information of all kinds, and directing me to the work of comparatively unknown authors. For the use of copyright matter I am also indebted to Mrs Allingham; to Professor E. F. Savage-Armstrong, for his own work, and that of his brother, the late Edward J. Armstrong; to Lady Ferguson; Miss Emily H. Hickey; Mr Michael Hogan; Mr Wm. Winter and Messrs C. Scribner & Sons, for a poem by Fitzjames O'Brien; Messrs Routledge & Sons for poems by S. Lover; to Mr T. D. Sullivan, M.P.; Mrs K. Tynan (Hinkson); Mr Aubrey de Vere and his publishers, Messrs Macmillan & Co.; Mr W. B. Yeats; and Dr Sigerson. Finally, I have to thank Mr Theodore Watts and Mr Alfred H. Miles, editor of _The Poets and Poetry of the Century_, for information on certain questions of copyright. R. Brimley Johnson. Llandaff House, Cambridge, August 3rd, 1894. THE THREE RAVENS |There were three ravens sat on a tree, _Downe, a downe, hay downe, hay downe_, There were three ravens sat on a tree, _With a downe, There were three ravens sat on a tree, They were as black as they might be, _With a downe, derrie, derrie, derrie, downe, downe. The one of them said to his mate, "Where shall we our breakfast take?"-- "Down in yonder green field, There lies a knight slain under his shield. "His hounds they lie down at his feet, So well they can their master keep. His hawks they flie so eagerly, There's no fowl dare him come nigh." Down there comes a fallow doe, As great with young as she might go. She lift up his bloody head, And kist his wounds that were so red. She got him up upon her back, And carried him to earthen lake. She buried him before the prime, She was dead herself ere even-song time. God send every gentleman, Such hawks, such hounds, and such a leman. (_lake_, grave.) [Illustration: 0048] [Illustration: 0049] LITTLE MUSGRAVE AND LADY BARNARD |As it fell one holy-day, _hay down_, As many be in the year, When young men and maids together did go Their matins and mass to hear, Little Musgrave came to the church door, The priest was at private mass; But he had more mind of the fair women, Then he had of our lady's grace.