Who is James Beattie

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James Beattie Poems

  • To The Right Honourable Lady Charlotte Gordon
    Why, Lady, wilt thou bind thy lovely brow
    With the dread semblance of that warlike helm,
    That nodding plume, and wreathe of various glow,
    That graced the chiefs of Scotia's ancient realm? ...
  • The Hermit
    At the close of day, when the hamlet is still,
    And mortals the sweets of forgetfulness prove,
    When nought but the torrent is heard on the hill,
    And nought but the nightingale's song in the grove. ...
  • Nature
    O how canst thou renounce the boundless store
    Of charms which Nature to her votary yields!
    The warbling woodland, the resounding shore,
    The pomp of groves, and garniture of fields; ...
  • Ode On Lord Hay's Birthday
    A Muse, unskill'd in venal praise,
    Unstain'd with flattery's art;
    Who loves simplicity of lays
    Breathed ardent from the heart; ...
  • Ode To Peace
    I. 1.
    Peace, heaven-descended maid! whose powerful voice
    From ancient darkness call'd the morn;
    And hush'd of jarring elements the noise, ...
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Top 10 most used topics by James Beattie

Life 15 Heaven 14 Death 13 I Love You 13 Love 13 Song 12 Heart 12 Pride 12 Smile 12 Power 12


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Comments about James Beattie

Ricklondon: the aim of education should be to teach us how to think, rather than what to think james beattie
Illandancient: only three scots poets left to sketch until i've finished my front cover. number 77 was dr james beattie
Ricklondon: the aim of education should be to teach us how to think, rather than what to think james beattie
Stancollymore: jack leslie was called up for england but denied the call-up because of the colour of his skin. today he received his posthumous england cap so disgracefullly denied him. a privilege for every black player capped since to have followed him. never forget.
Cm9798: my words can’t do justice to how desperate some of this action is. a classic scrap. le tissier is on for the last 20 and provides the assist for james beattie
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Poem of the day

Andrew Lang Poem
Ballade Of The Midnight Forest
 by Andrew Lang

Still sing the mocking fairies, as of old,
Beneath the shade of thorn and holly-tree;
The west wind breathes upon them, pure and cold,
And wolves still dread Diana roaming free
In secret woodland with her company.
'Tis thought the peasants' hovels know her rite
When now the wolds are bathed in silver light,
And first the moonrise breaks the dusky grey,
...

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