GIVE PLACE, YE LOVERS. GIVE place, ye lovers, here before That spent your boasts and brags in vain ; My lady's beauty passeth more The best of yours, I dare well sayen, And thereto hath a troth as just The whole effect of Nature's plaint, The like to whom she could not paint: With wringing hands, how she did cry, And what she said, I know it aye. I know she swore with raging mind, That could have gone so near her heart; And this was chiefly all her pain; "She could not make the like again." Sith Nature thus gave her the praise, WHEN IN THE CHRONICLE OF WASTED But 't is easy to be seen in the coldness of your TIME. SONNET. WHEN in the chronicle of wasted time SHAKESPEARE. CHILD AND MAIDEN. Ан, Chloris! could I now but sit And praised the coming day, But when time has swelled the grapes to a richer | Her lively looks a sprightly mind disclose, Quick as her eyes, and as unfixed as those : If to her share some female errors fall, ALEXANDER POPE. Ah me! WILLIAM MAGINN. SHE WAS A PHANTOM OF DELIGHT. SHE was a phantom of delight To be a moment's ornament; I saw her upon nearer view, A spirit, yet a woman too! Her household motions light and free, A countenance in which did meet Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles. And now I see with eye serene BELINDA. W. WORDSWORTH. FROM THE RAPE OF THE LOCK." ON her white breast a sparkling cross she wore, Which Jews might kiss, and Infidels adore, IF IT BE TRUE THAT ANY BEAUTEOUS THING. IF it be true that any beauteous thing Repose upon the eyes which it resembleth, For who adores the Maker needs must love his work. MICHAEL ANGELO (Italian). Translation of J. E. TAYLOR. THE MIGHT OF ONE FAIR FACE. THE might of one fair face sublimes my love, Forgive me if I cannot turn away From those sweet eyes that are my earthly heaven, For they are guiding stars, benignly given MICHAEL ANGELO (Italian). Translation of J. E. TAYLOR. To run down by the early train, And spy the scarce-blown violet banks, And butt their patient mothers. Alas! one point in all my plan My serious thoughts demur to: Seven years have passed for maid and man, Perhaps my rose is over-blown, Perhaps in farm-house of her own CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTL SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY. SHE walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies, And all that's best of dark and bright Meets in her aspect and her eyes, Thus mellowed to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies. One shade the more, one ray the less Had half impaired the nameless grace Which waves in every raven tress Or softly lightens o'er her face, And on that cheek and o'er that brow CASTARA. --- LORD BYRON LIKE the violet, which alone She obeys with speedy will Her grave parents' wise commands; And so innocent, that ill She nor acts, nor understands. She sails by that rock, the court, Where oft virtue splits her mast; And retiredness thinks the port, Where her fame may anchor cast. She holds that day's pleasure best Sweetly spends a winter's night. O'er that darkness whence is thrust Prayer and sleep, oft governs lust. She her throne makes reason climb, While wild passions captive lie; And each article of time, Her pure thoughts to heaven fly; All her vows religious be, And she vows her love to me. WILLIAM HABINGTON. ANSWER TO A CHILD'S QUESTION. Do you ask what the birds say? The sparrow, the dove, The linnet, and thrush say "I love, and I love!" In the winter they're silent, the wind is so strong; What it says I don't know, but it sings a loud song. But green leaves, and blossoms, and sunny warm weather, And singing and loving-all come back together. But the lark is so brimful of gladness and love, The green fields below him, the blue sky above, That he sings, and he sings, and forever sings he, "I love my Love, and my Love loves me.' • SAMUEL COLERIDGE. |