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But to see her was to love her,
Love but her, and love forever.
Had we never loved sae kindly,
Had we never loved sae blindly,
Never met or never parted,
We had ne'er been broken-hearted.

By day or night, in weal or woe,

That heart, no longer free, Must bear the love it cannot show,

And silent, ache for thee.

LORD BYRON.

MAID OF ATHENS, ERE WE PART.

Ζώη μου σας αγαπώ.*

Fare thee weel, thou first and fairest!
Fare thee weel, thou best and dearest !
Thine be ilka joy and treasure,
Peace, enjoyment, love, and pleasure !
Ae fond kiss, and then we sever!
Ae fareweel, alas, forever !
Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee;
Warring sighs and groans I'll

MAID of Athens, ere we part, Give, O, give me back my heart ! Or, since that has left my breast, Keep it now, and take the rest! Hear my vow before I go,

Ζώη μου σάς αγαπώ. .

wage thee.

ROBERT BURAS.

THE VOW.

In holy night we made the vow ;

And the same lamp which long before Had seen our early passion grow

Was witness to the faith we swore.

By those tresses unconfined,
Wooed by each Ægean wind ;
By those lids whose jetty fringe
Kiss thy soft cheeks' blooming tinge ;
By those wild eyes like the roe,
Ζώη μου σας αγαπώ.

.

Did I not swear to love her ever ;

And have I ever dared to rove? Did she not own a rival never

Should shake her faith, or steal her love?

By that lip I long to taste;
By that zone-encircled waist ;
By all the token-flowers that tell
What words can never speak so well ;
By love's alternate joy and woe,

Ζώη μου σας αγαπώ.

Yet now she says those words were air,

Those vows were written all in water, And by the lamp that saw her swear

Has yielded to the first that sought her.

Froin the Greek of MELEAGER,

by JOHN HERMAN MERIVALE.

Maid of Athens ! I am gone.
Think of me, sweet! when alone.
Though I fly to Istambol,
Athens holds my heart and soul :
Can I cease to love thee? No!

Ζώη μου σάς αγαπώ. .

LORD BYRON,

THE KISS, DEAR MAID.

THE HEATH THIS NIGHT MUST BE MY BED.

THE kiss, dear maid! thy lip has left

Shall never part from mine,
Till happier hours restore the gift

Untainted back to thine.

SONG OF THE YOUNG HIGHLANDER, SUMMONED FROM THE

SIDE OF HIS BRIDE BY THE “FIERY CROSS" OF KOD). ERICK DHU.

Thy parting glance, which fondly beams,

An equal love may see : The tear that from thine eyelid streams

Can weep no change in me.

THE heath this night must be my bed,
The bracken curtain for my head,
My lullaby the warder's tread,

Far, far from love and thee, Mary ;
To-morrow eve, more stilly laid,
Mly couch may be my bloody plaid,
My vesper song, thy wail, sweet maid !

It will not waken me, Mary!

I ask no pledge to make me blest

In gazing when alone ;
Nor one memorial for a breast

Whose thoughts are all thine own.

Nor need I write to tell the tale

My pen were doubly weak: 0, what can idle words avail,

Unless the heart could speak ?

I may not, dare not, fancy now
The grief that clouds thy lovely brow,
I dare not think upon thy vow,

And all it promised me, Mary.

* Zoë inou, sas agapo, -- My life, I love thee.

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He says,

HERO TO LEANDER.

“The morning star

Climbs the horizon's bar.
0, Go not yet, my love,
The night is dark and vast;

She says, “Then quick depart:
The white moon is hid in her heaven above,

Alas ! you now must start;
And the waves climb high and fast.
O, kiss me, kiss me, once again,

“But give the cock a blow
Lest thy kiss should be the last.

Who did begin our woe!”
O kiss me ere we part;

From the Chinese, by WILLIAM R. ALGER.
Grow closer to my heart;
My heart is warmer surely than the bosom of the

main.
O joy ! O bliss of blisses !

THE PARTING OF ROMEO AND JULIET.
My heart of hearts art thou.
Come, bathe me with thy kisses,

JULIET. Wilt thou be gone ? it is not yet near
My eyelids and my brow.
Hark! how the wild rain hisses,

day :
And the loud sea roars below.

It was the nightingale, and not the lark,

That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear ; Thy heart beats through thy rosy limbs,

Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate-tree :
So gladly doth it stir ;

Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.
Thine eye in drops of gladness swims.

ROMEO. It was the lark, the herald of the
I have bathed thee with the pleasant myrrh ;

morn, Thy locks are dripping balm ;

No nightingale : look, love, what envious streaks Thou shalt not wander hence to-night,

Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east: I 'll stay thee with my kisses.

Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day To-night the roaring brine

Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain-tops.
Will rend thy golden tresses ;

I must be gone and live, or stay and die.
The ocean with the morrow light

JULIET. Yon light is not daylight, I know
Will be both blue and calm ;

it, I :
And the billow will embrace thee with a kiss as It is some meteor, that the sun exhales,
soft as mine.

To be to thee this night a torch-bearer,

And light thee on thy way to Mantua :
No Western odors wander

Therefore stay yet, -- thou need'st not to be gone.
On the black and moaning sea,

ROMEO. Let me be ta’en, let me be put to
And when thou art dead, Leander,
My soul must follow thee!

I am content, so thou wilt have it so.
0, go not yet, my love,

I'll say, yon gray is not the morning's eye, Thy voice is sweet and low;

’T is but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow; The deep salt wave breaks in above

Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat Those marble steps below.

The vaulty heaven so high above our heads :
The turret-stairs are wet

I have more care to stay than will to go ;
That lead into the sea.

Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so.—
Leander ! go not yet!

How is ’t, my soul ? let's talk, it is not day. The pleasant stars have set :

JULIET. It is, it is; hie hence, be gone, away! 0, go not, go not yet,

It is the lark that sings so out of tune,
Or I will follow thee.

Straining harsh discords, and unpleasing sharps.
Some say, the lark makes sweet division ;
This doth not so, for she divideth us :

Some say, the lark and loathèd toad change
THE PARTING LOVERS.

eyes : 6. The cock crows,

hark !”

0, now I would they had changed voices too ! He says, “No! still 't is dark."

Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray,

Hunting thee hence, with hunts-up to the day. She says, “The dawn grows bright,”

0, now be gone ; more light and light it grows. He says, “O no, my Light.”

ROMEO. More light and light,

more dark

and dark our woes. She says, “Stand up and say,

JULIET. Then, window, let day in, and let Gets not the heaven gray ?”

life out.

death;

ALFRED TENNYSON.

SHE says,

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