University of Virginia Library

Search this document 
The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan

In Two Volumes. With a Portrait
Buchanan, Robert Williams (1841-1901)

collapse sectionI. 
VOL. I.
expand section 
Early Poems.
expand section 
Undertones.
expand section 
Idyls and Legends of Inverburn.
expand section 
London Poems.
expand section 
Miscellaneous Poems.
expand section 
North Coast, and other Poems.
collapse section 
Sonnets WRITTEN BY LOCH CORUISK, ISLE OF SKYE.
collapse section 
CORUISKEN SONNETS.
 I. 
I. Lord, is it Thou?
 II. 
II. We are Fatherless.
 III. 
III. We are Children.
 IV. 
IV. When we are all Asleep.
 V. 
V. But the Hills will bear Witness.
 VI. 
VI. Desolate!
 VII. 
VII. Lord, art Thou here?
 VIII. 
VIII. God is Beautiful.
 IX. 
IX. The Motion of the Mists.
 X. 
X. Coruisk.
 XI. 
XI. But Whither?
 XII. 
XII. God is Pitiless.
 XIII. 
XIII. Yea, Pitiless.
 XIV. 
XIV. Could God be Judged.
 XV. 
XV. The Hills on their Thrones.
 XVI. 
XVI. King Blaabhein.
 XVII. 
XVII. Blaabhein in the Mists.
 XVIII. 
XVIII. The Fiery Birth of the Hills.
 XIX. 
XIX. The Changeless Hills.
 XX. 
XX. O Mountain Peak of a God.
 XXI. 
XXI. God the Image.
 XXII. 
XXII. The Footprints.
 XXIII. 
XXIII. We are Deathless.
 XXIV. 
XXIV. A Voice in the Whirlwind.
 XXV. 
XXV. Cry of the Little Brook.
 XXVI. 
XXVI. The Happy Hearts of Earth.
 XXVII. 
XXVII. Father, forgive Thy Child.
 XXVIII. 
XXVIII. God's Loneliness.
 XXIX. 
XXIX. The Cup of Tears.
 XXX. 
XXX. The Light of the World.
 XXXI. 
XXXI. Earth's Eldest Born.
 XXXII. 
XXXII. What Spirit Cometh?
 XXXIII. 
XXXIII. Stay, O Spirit!
 XXXIV. 
XXXIV. Quiet Waters.
expand section 
The Book of Orm.
expand section 
Political Mystics.
expand section 
Songs of the Terrible Year.
expand section 
Saint Abe and his Seven Wives.
expand sectionII. 
VOL. II.

collapse section Collapse All | Expand All expand section
previous section The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan
next section

X.

The frosty wind awaken'd Roland from his swound,
And, spitting salt foam from his tongue, he look'd around,
And saw the Bishop dear lying at length close by,—
Touch'd him, and found him cold, and utter'd a great cry:
‘Now, dead and cold, alas! lieth the noblest wight
For preaching sermons sweet and wielding sword in fight;
His voice was as a trump that on a mountain blows,
He scatter'd oils of grace and wasted heathen-foes,—
White Mary take his soul, to join our comrades dear,
And let him wear his Bishop's crown in heaven above, as here!’
previous section The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan
next section