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But I will briefer with them be,
An higher and a nobler strain
BROM THE THIRD BOOK OF LAWES'S AYRES.
FAIN would I love, but that I fear
The fair one she 's a mark to all,
DR. R. HUGHES.
A face made up
Now, if Time knows
WISHES FOR THE SUPPOSED MISTRESS.
WHOE'ER she be, That not impossible She That shall command my heart and me; Where'er she lie, Locked up from mortal eye In shady leaves of destiny : Till that ripe birth Of studied Fate stand forth, And teach her fair steps to our earth ; Till that divine Idea take a shrine Of crystal flesh, through which to shine : - Meet you her, my Wishes, Bespeak her to my blisses, And be ye called, my absent kisses. I wish her beauty That owes not all its duty To gaudy tire, or glistring shoe-tie : Something more than Taffeta or tissue can, Or rampant feather, or rich fan. A face that's best By its own beauty drest, And can alone command the rest :
RIVALRY IN LOVE.
Of all the torments, all the cares,
With which our lives are curst; Of all the plagues a lover bears,
Sure rivals are the worst !
Afflictions easier grow ;
Companions of our woe.
My dear and only love, I pray,
This noble world of thee
But purest monarchie.
Which virtuous souls abhore, And hold a synod in thy heart,
I'll never love thee more.
THE LOVELINESS OF LOVE.
It is not Beauty I demand,
A crystal brow, the moon's despair, Nor the snow's daughter, a white hand,
Nor mermaid's yellow p ide of hair : Tell me not of your starry eyes,
Your lips that seem on roses fed, Your breasts, where Cupid tumbling lies
Nor sleeps for kissing of his bed, A bloomy pair of vermeil cheeks
Like Hebe's in her ruddiest hours, A breath that softer music speaks
Than summer winds a-wooing flowers ; These are but gauds : nay, what are lips ?
Coral beneath the ocean-stream,
Full oft he perisheth on them.
That wave hot youth to fields of blood ? Did Helen's breast, though ne'er so soft,
Do Greece or Ilium any good ?
JAMES GRAHAM, Earl of Montrose,
SHALL I tell you whom I love?
Hearken then awhile to me; And if such a woman move
As I now shall versify,
LOVE ME LITTLE, LOVE ME LONG.
ORIGINALLY PRINTED IN 1569.
Nature did her so much right
As she scorns the help of art. • In as many virtues dight
As e'er yet embraced a heart.
To make known how much she hath ;
Than may fitly sweeten wrath.
And her virtues grace her birth ;
Modest in her most of mirth. Likelihood enough to prove Only worth could kindle love. Such she is ; and if you know
Such a one as I have sung ;
That she be but somewhat young;
Love me little, love me long !
Burneth soon to waste.
Fadeth not in haste.
For I fear the end.
To be steadfast, friend.
While that life endures;
I will it restore. A suit of durance let it be, For all weathers,
that for me, For the land or for the sea :
Lasting evermore. Winter's cold or summer's heat, Autumn's tempests on it beat ; It can never know defeat,
Never can rebel : Such the love that I would gain, Such the love, I tell thee plain, Thou must give, or woo in vain :
So to thee -- farewell !
He that loves a rosy cheek,
Or a coral lip admires,
Fuel to maintain his fires ;
Gentle thoughts, and calm desires, Hearts with equal love combined,
Kindle never-dying fires : — Where these are not, I despise Lovely cheeks or lips or eyes.
SHALL I love you like the wind, love,
That is so fierce and strong, That sweeps all barriers from its path
And recks not right or wrong? The passion of the wind, love,
Can never last for long
But when he haunts your dour... the town
Marks coming and marks going ... You seem to have stitched your eyelids dowz
To that long piece of sewing!
You never give a look, not you,
Nor drop him a “Good morning,” To keep his long day warm and blue,
So fretted by your scorning.
No matter how or where we loved,
Or when we 'll wed, or what befall ;
Though to dust crumbles Moreton Hall.
Her grim sires stare from every And centuries of ancestral grace Revive in her sweet girlish face,
As meek she glides through Moreton Hall. Whilst I have — nothing ; save, perhaps,
Some worthless heaps of idle gold
Therefore they say her heart was sold !
Laugh as we ride 'neath chestnuts tall,
At the fair maid of Moreton Hall;
She shook her head : “ The mouse and bee
For crumb or flower will linger; The dog is happy at my knee,
The cat purrs at my finger.
“But he... to him, the least thing given
Means great things at a distance ; He wants my world, my sun, my heaven,
Soul, body, whole existence.
We let the neighbors talk their fill,
For life is sweet, and love is strong, And two, close knit in marriage ties, The whole world's shams may well despise,
Its folly, madness, shame, and wrong.
“They say love gives as well as takes ;
But I'm a simple maiden, My mother's first smile when she wakes I still have smiled and prayed in.
VIII. “I only know my mother's love
Which gives all and asks nothing,
And this new loving sets the groove Too much the way of loathing.
IX. “Unless he gives me all in change,
I forfeit all things by him : The risk is terrible and strange —
I tremble, doubt, ... deny him.
“He's sweetest friend, or hardest foe,
Best angel, or worst devil ;
I can't be merely civil !
"You trust a woman who puts forth
Her blossoms thick as summer's ? You think she dreams what love is worth,
Who casts it to new-comers ?
That thou hast kept a portion back,
While I have staked the whole,
That mine cannot fulfil ?
Could better wake or still ?
The demon-spirit, change,
On all things new and strange ?
And answer to my claim,
Not thou, had been to blame ?
The words would come too late ; Yet I would spare thee all remorse,
So comfort thee, my fate : Whatever on my heart may fall, Remember, I would risk it all !
“Such love's a cowslip-ball to fling,
A moment's pretty pastime ; I give ... all me, if anything,
The first time and the last time.
“Dear neighbor of the trellised house,
A man should murmur never, Though treated worse than dog and mouse,
Till doted on forever !”
ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.
ADELAIDE AXNE PROCTER
BEFORE I trust my fate to thee,
Or place my hand in thine,
Color and form to mine,
A shadow of regret :
That holds thy spirit yet ?
A possible future shine,
Untouched, unshared by mine ?
Within thy inmost soul,
“YES," I answered you last night;
“No," this morning, sir, I say. Colors seen by candle-light
Will not look the same by day. When the viols played their best,
Lamps above, and laughs below, Love me sounded like a jest,
Fit for yes or fit for no. Call me false or call me free,
Vow, whatever light may shino, No man on your face shall see
Any grief for change on mine. Yet the sin is on us both;
Time to dance is not to woo ; Wooing light makes fickle troth
Scorn of me recoils on you. Learn to win a lady's faith
Nobly, as the thing is high, Bravely, as for life and death,
With a loyal gravity.