us in higher and healthier ways than those of the world, and interpreting to us the lessons of Nature. But she speaks best for herself. Her true accents, if the plan has been executed with success, may be heard throughout the following pages:--wherever the Poets of England are honoured, wherever the dominant language of the world is spoken, it is hoped that they will find fit audience. 1861 Some poems, especially in Book I, have been added:--either on better acquaintance;--in deference to critical suggestions;--or unknown to the Editor when first gathering his harvest. For aid in these after-gleanings he is specially indebted to the excellent reprints of rare early verse given us by Dr. Hannah, Dr. Grosart, Mr. Arber, Mr. Bullen, and others,--and (in regard to the additions of 1883) to the advice of that distinguished Friend, by whom the final choice has been so largely guided. The text has also been carefully revised from authoritative sources. It has still seemed best, for many reasons, to retain the original limit by which the selection was confined to those then no longer living. But the editor hopes that, so far as in him lies, a complete and definitive collection of our best Lyrics, to the central year of this fast-closing century, is now offered. 1883-1890-1891 * * * * * Contents DEDICATION PREFACE PAGE BOOK I. 1 BOOK II. 56 BOOK III. 133 BOOK IV. 197 NOTES 349 INDEX OF WRITERS 371 INDEX OF FIRST LINES 375 * * * * * Εἰς τὸν λειμῶνα καθίσας, ἔδρεπεν ἕτερον ἐφ' ἑτέρῳ αἰρόμενος ἄγρευμ' ἀνθέων ἁδομένᾳ ψυχᾷ -- -- [Eurip. frag. 754.] ['He sat in the meadow and plucked with glad heart the spoil of the flowers, gathering them one by one.'] * * * * * The Golden Treasury Book First I _SPRING_ Spring, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant king; Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring, Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing, Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo! The palm and may make country houses gay, Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day, And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay, Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo. The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet, Young lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit, In every street these tunes our ears do greet, Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo! Spring! the sweet Spring! _T. Nash._ II _THE FAIRY LIFE_ 1