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When he shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine, That all the world will be in love with night, And pay no worship to the garish sun. Romeo and Juliet, Actili. Sc. 2.
SHAKESPEARE. Her eyes the glow-worm lend thee, The shooting-stars attend thee;
And the elves also,
Whose little eyes glow
The Night Piece to Jula.
To a Lady, with a Present of Flowers.
When you do dance, I wish you A wave o' th' sea, that you might ever do Nothing but that.
IVinter's Tale, Adiv. SC, 4.
Some asked me where the Rubies grew,
And nothing I did say,
The lips of Julia.
Cherry ripe, ripe, ripe, I cry,
Except I be by Sylvia in the night,
Two Gentlemen of Verona, Act iii. Sc. 1.
But thy eternal summer shall not fade.
Be thou the rainbow to the storms of life!
The Bride of Abydos. Cant. ii.
THE POET's ADMIRATION. That eagle's fate and mine are one,
Which, on the shaft that made him die, Espied a feather of his own,
Wherewith he wont to soar so liigh. To a lady singing a Song of his Composius.
Is she not more than painting can express,
The Fair Penitent, dat iii. Sc. I.
'Tis sweeter for thee despairing,
BEAUMONT and FLETCHER
IF IT BE TRUE THAT ANY BEAUTEOUS | Forgive me if I cannot turn away
From those sweet eyes that are my earthly
heaven, If it be true that any beauteous thing
For they are guiding stars, benignly given Raises the pure and just desire of man
To tempt my footsteps to the upward way; From earth to Goil, the eternal fount of all,
And if I dwell too fondly in thy sight, Such I believe my love ; for as in her
I live and love in God's peculiar light. So fair, in whom I all besides forget,
MICHAEL ANGELO (Italian). Translation I view the gentle work of her Creator,
of J. E. TAYLOR
WERE I AS BASE AS IS THE LOWLY Enamored through the eyes,
WERE I as base as is the lowly plain,
And you, my Love, as high as heaven above, For who adores the Maker needs must love his Yet should the thoughts of me your humble work.
Ascend to heaven, in honor of my Love.
Were I as high as heaven above the plain,
MUSES, that sing Love's sensual empirie,
Were you the earth, dear Love, and I the skies,
Wheresoe'er I am, below, or else above you, Wheresoe'er you are, my heart shall truly love you.
Such be your gentle motion,
Till life's last pulse shall beat ;
Float ou, in joy, to meet
JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD.
THE FRIAR OF ORDERS GRAY.
When Delia on the plain appears,
GEORGE, LORD LYTTELTON.
It was a friar of orders gray
Walked forth to tell his beaus ; And he inet with a lady fair
Clad in a pilgrim's weeds.
“Now Christ thee save, thou reverend friar ;
I pray thee tell to me, If ever at yon holy shrine
My true-love thou didst see."
“And how should I know your true-love
From many another one ?" “O, by his cockle hat, and staff,
And by his sandal shoon.
“But chiefly by his face and mien,
That were so fair to view ; His flaxen locks that sweetly curled,
And eyes of lovely blue."
MY TRUE-LOVE HATH MY HEART. My true-love hath my heart, and I have his,
By just exchange one to the other given : I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss,
There never was a better bargain driven : My true-love hath my heart, and I have his.
“O lady, he is dead and gone !
Lady, he's dead and gone : And at his head a green grass turf,
And at his heels a stone.
His heart in me keeps him and me in one ;
My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides : He loves my heart, for once it was his own ;
I cherish his because in me it bides :
“Within these holy cloisters long
He languished, and he died, Lamenting of a lady's love,
And 'plaining of her pride.
SIR PHILIP SIDNEY.
I SAW TWO CLOUDS AT MORNING.
“Here bore him barefaced on his bier
Six proper youths and tall, And many a tear bedewed his grave
Within yon kirkyard wall."
I saw two clouds at morning,
Tinged by the rising sun,
And mingled into one ;
“ And art thon dead, thou gentle youth ?
And art thou (lead and gone? And didst thou die for love of me?
Break, cruel heart of stone !”
“But first upon my true-love's grave
My weary limbs I 'll lay, And thrice I'll kiss the green-grass turf
That wraps his breathless clay."
“Yet stay, fair lady ; rest awhile
Beneath this cloister wall; The cold wind through the hawthorn blows,
And drizzly raiu doth fall."
“O, stay me not, thou holy friar,
O, stay ne not, I pray ; No drizzly rain that falls on me
Can wash my fault away.”
“Yet stay, fair lady, turn again,
And dry those pearly tears ; For see, beneath this
gray Thy own true-love appears.
“0, weep not, lady, weep not so;
Some ghostly comfort seek ;
Nor tears bedew thy cheek."
“0, do not, do not, holy friar,
My sorrow now reprove ;
That e'er won lady's love.
“And now, alas ! for thy sad loss
I'll evermore weep and sigh ; For thee I only wished to live,
For thee I wish to die."
“Weep no more, lady, weep no more,
Thy sorrow is in vain ;
Will ne'er make grow again.
"Our joys as winged dreams do fly ;
Why then should sorrow last ? Since grief but aggravates thy loss,
Grieve not for what is past."
“Here forced by grief and hopeless love,
These holy weeds I sought ;
To end my days I thought.
Is not, yet passed away,
No longer would I stay."
'O, say not so, thou holy friar;
I pray thee, say not so;
'T is meet my tears should flow.
“And will he never come again?
Will he ne'er come again ?
Forever to remain.
“Now farewell grief, and welcome joy
Once more unto my heart ;
Adapted froin old ballads by THOMAS PERCY
“ His cheek was redder than the rose ;
The comeliest youth was he!
Alas, and woe is me!”
FROM "THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD."
“Sigh no more, lady, sigh no more,
Men were deceivers ever :
To one thing constant never.
“TURN, gentle Hermit of the dale,
And guide my lonely way
With hospitable ray.
“Hadst thou been fond, he had been false,
And left thee sad and heavy ;
Since summer trees were leafy."
“For here forlorn and lost I tread,
With fainting steps and slow;
Seem lengthening as I go."
“Now say not so, thou holy friar,
I pray thee say not so ;
0, he was ever true !
'Forbear, my son," the Hermit cries,
“To tempt the dangerous gloom; For yonder faithless phantom flies
To lure thee to thy doom.
“And art thion dead, thou much-loved youth,
And didst thou die for me?
A pilgrim I will be.
“ Here to the houseless child of want
My door is open still;
I give it with good will.