Lit. Trad. 2 Poetry Packet

Front 1

The king sits in Dumferling town, 1
Drinking the blude-reid1 wine:
“O whar will I get guid sailor,
To sail this ship of mine?”

Back 1

Sir Patrick Spens, Anon

Front 2

Up and spak an eldern knicht, 5
Sat at the king’s richt knee:
“Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor
That sails upon the sea.”

Back 2

Sir Patrick Spens, Anon

Front 3

The king has written a braid2 letter
And signed it wi’ his hand, 10
And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens,
Was walking on the sand.

Back 3

Sir Patrick Spens, Anon

Front 4

The first line that Sir Patrick read,
A loud lauch3 lauched he;
The next line that Sir Patrick read, 15
The tear blinded his ee4.

Back 4

Sir Patrick Spens, Anon

Front 5

“O wha is this has done this deed,
This ill deed done to me,
To send me out this time o’ the year,
To sail upon the sea? 20
“Mak haste, mak haste, my mirry

Back 5

Sir Patrick Spens, Anon

Front 6

“Mak haste, mak haste, my mirry men all,
Our guid ship sails the morn.”
“O say na sae, my master dear,
For I fear a deadly storm.

Back 6

Sir Patrick Spens, Anon

Front 7

“Late, late yestre’en I saw the new moon 25
“Wi’ the auld moon in hir arm,
4
5 loath
6 wet
7 shoes
8 before
9 combs
And I fear, I fear, my dear master,
That we will come to harm.”

Back 7

Sir Patrick Spens, Anon

Front 8

O our Scots nobles were richt laith5
To weet6 their cork-heeled shoon7 30
But lang or a’ the play were played
Their hats they swam aboon.

Back 8

Sir Patrick Spens, Anon

Front 9

O lang, lang may their ladies sit,
Wi’ their fans into their hand. 35
Or ere they see Sir Patrick Spens
Come sailing to the land.

Back 9

Sir Patrick Spens, Anon

Front 10

O lang, lang, may the ladies stand
Wi’ their gold kems9 in their hair,
Waiting for their ain dear lords, 40
For they’ll see them na mair.

Back 10

Sir Patrick Spens, Anon

Front 11

Half o’er, half o’er to Aberdour
It’s fifty fadom deep,
And there lies guid Sir Patrick Spens
Wi’ the Scots lords at his feet.

Back 11

Sir Patrick Spens, Anon

Front 12

The sea is calm tonight 1
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay

Back 12

Matthew Arnold, Dover Beach

Front 13

Come to the window, sweet is the night air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,

Back 13

Dover Beach, Matthew Arnold

Front 14

At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.

Back 14

Dover Beach, Matthew Arnold

Front 15

Sophocles long ago 15
Heard it on the Aegean, and it brought
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery; we
Find also in the sound a thought,
Hearing it by this distant northern sea.

Back 15

Dover Beach, Matthew Arnold

Front 16

The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar, 25
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.

Back 16

Dover Beach, Matthew Arnold

Front 17

Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems 30
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain

Back 17

Dover Beach, Matthew Arnold

Front 18

And we are here as on a darkling plain 35
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.

Back 18

Dover Beach, Matthew Arnold