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The Silent Lover.
SIR W RALEIGH.
Sunshine and rain at once.
SHAKESPEARE. A mighty pain to love it is,
Smiles from reason flow, And 't is a pain that pain to miss ;
To brute denied, and are of love the food. But of all pains, the greatest pain
Paradise Lost, book ix.
MILTON It is to love, but love in vain.
A. COWLEY. The rose is fairest when 't is bud ding new
And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears The sweetest joy, the wildest woe is love ;
The rose is sweetest washed with morning dew, The taint of earth, the odor of the skies
And love is loveliest when embalmed in tears. Is in it.
Lady of the Lake, Cant. iv.
SHYNESS OF LOVE.
Silence in love bewrays more woe
Than words, though ne 'er so witty ;
A beggar that is dunıb, you know,
Read it, sweet maid, though it be done but slightly;
Who can show all his love doth love but lightly, To be in love where scorn is bought with groans,
S. DANIEL Coy looks, with heart-sore sighs ; one fading I never tempted her with word too large ; moment's mirth,
But, as a brother to his sister, showed With twenty watchful, weary, tedious nights :
Bashful sincerity, and comely love.
Much Ado about Nothing. Activ. Sc. I.
ARTS OF LOVE.
Of all the paths lead to a woman's love Smooth at a distance, rough at hand.
Pity's the straightest.
Knight of Maita, Art i. Sc. I. Vows with so much passion, swears with so much So mourned the dame of Ephesus her love; grace,
And thus the soldier, armed with resolution, That 't is a kind of heaven to be deluded by him. Told his soft tale, and was a thriving wooer. Alexander the Great, Act i. Sc. 3.
Richard III. ( Altered), Act ii. Sc. 1. COLLEY CIBBER. To love you was pleasant enough,
The Devil hath not, in all his quiver's choice, And 0, 't is delicious to hate you !
An arrow for the heart like a sweet voice.
Don Juan, Cant. xv.
BEAUMONT and FLETCHER.
Love first invented verse, and formed the rhyme, Sighs, TEARS, AND SMiles.
The motion measured, harmonized the chime.
Cymon and Iphigenia.
Pleased me, long choosing and beginning late.
As You Like It, Act v. Sc. 2.
The world was sad, - the garden was a wild ;
None without hope e'er loved the brightest fair, And Man, the hernit, sighed — tiil Woman But love can hope where reason would despair. smiled.
GEORGE, LORD LYTTLETON, Pleasures of Hope, Parti.
T. CAMPBELL. O father, what a hell of witchcraft lies
IDLE LOVE. In the small orb of one particular tear!
My only books 1 Lover's Complaint, St. xlii.
Were woman's looks, Sighel anal looked unutterable things.
And folly's all they've taught me. 7 ne Seasons, Summer.
The time I've lost,
Love in your hearts as idly burns
O Love ! O fire! once he drew As fire in antique Roman urns.
With one long kiss my whole soul through Hudibras, Part ii. Cant. i.
| My lips, as sunlight drinketh dew. Love sought is good, but given unsought is better.
Fatima. Twelfth Night, Act ii. Sc. 5.
A long, long kiss, a kiss of youth and love.
The bloom of young Desire and purple light of The rose that all are praising
T. GRAY. Is not the rose for me ;
Progress of Poesy, i. 3. Too many cyes are gazing
Still amorous, and fond, and billing, Upon the costly tree;
Like Philip and Mary on a shilling. But there's a rose in yonder glen
Hudibras, Part iii. Cant. i. That shuns the gaze of other men,
And dallies with the innocence of love. For me its blossoms raising, –
Twelfth Night Act ii, Sc. 4.
T. H. BAYLY. And, touched by her fair tendance, gladlier grew.
Why, she would hang on him,
By what it fed on.
Hamiel, Adi. Sc. 2.
SHAKESPEARE. Is --- Lord forgive us ! - cinders, ashes, dust. Lamia.
KEATS. | Imparadised in one another's arms.
Paradise Lost, Book viii. The cold in clime are cold in blood,
Their love can scarce deserve the name. The Giaour.
Two souls with but a single thought,
MARIA LOVELL. And when once the young beart of a maiden is
Ingomar the Barbarian, Adii. stolen,
FERD. Here's my hand. The maiden herself will steal after it soon.
Miran. And mine, with my heart in 't.
SHAKESPEARE. And whispering, “I will ne'er consent,” – consented.
What's mine is yours, and what is yours is mine. Don Juan, Cant, i.
Measure for Measure, Act. v. Sc. i.
SHAKESPEARE. The fly that sips treacle is lost in the sweets.
Drink ye to her that each loves best, Beggar's Opera, Act ii. Sc. 2.
J. GAY. And if you nurse a flame Then fly betimes, for only they
That's told but to her mutual breast,
We we will not ask her name.
Drink ye to her.
An unrelenting foe to love ;
And, when we meet a mutual heart,
Come in between and bid us part ? dear ! 'T is never too late for delight, my dear!
And you must love him, ere to you And the best of all ways
He will seem worthy of your love. To lengthen our days,
A Poet's Epitaph.
WORDSWORTH Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear ! Young May Moon.
MOORE. | Ye gods ! annihilate but space and time,
And make two lovers happy. Lovers' hours are long, though seeming short. Martinus Scriblerus on the Art of Sinking in Poetry, Ch. xi. Venus and Adonis.
Sweet to entrance
Dear as the vital warmth that feeds my life; The raptured soul by intermingling glance.
Dear as these eyes, that weep in fondness o'er
Venice Preserved', Art v. Sc. I.
T. OTWAY. True beauty dwells in deep retreats,
Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes; Whose veil is unremoved
Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart. Till heart with heart in concord beats,
The Bard, i. 3.
T. GRAY. And the lover is beloved.
As dear to me as are the ruddy drops
That visit my sad heart.
Julius Cæsar, Ad. ii. Sc. I.
With thee conversing I forget all time ;
All seasons and their change, all please alike. Childe Harold, Cant. iv. With thee, all toils are sweet; each clime hath But neither breath of morn when she ascends charms;
With charm of earliest birds, nor rising sun Earth
our world within our arms. On this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, flower, The Bride of Abydos.
Glistering with dew, nor fragrance after showers,
Or glittering starlight, without thee is sweet.
Paradise Lost, Book iv.
All love is sweet,
Given or returned. Common as light is lore,
Anil its familiar voice wearies not ever. Thy transports moderate.
Prometheus Unbound, AC'. ii. Sc. 5.
INCONSTANCY AND JEALOUSY.
That we can call these delicate creatures ours,
Trifles, light as air,
Othello, Act iis. Sc. 3.
Good heaven, the souls of all my tribe defend
Heaven has no rage like love to batred turned,
0, beware, my lord, of jealousy ;
I die - but first I have possessed, 0:hello, Act. iii. Sc. 3.
And come what may, I hare been blest.
I've lived and loved.
| Love's life is in its own replies, –
To each low beat it beats, Let me not to the marriage of true minds Smiles back the smiles, sighs back the sighs, Admit impediments : love is not love,
And every throb repeats. Which alters when it alteration finds,
Then, since one loving heart still throws Or bends with the remover to remove;
Two shadows in love's sun, 0, no! it is an ever-fixed mark,
How should two loving hearts compose
THOMAS KIBBLE HERVEY, Whose worth 's unknown, although his height be
taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and THOU HAST SWORN BY THY GOD. MY cheeks
By that pretty white hand o' thine,
And by a' the lowing stars in heaven,
That thou wad aye be mine!
And by that kind heart o' thine,
That thou shalt aye be mine!
Then foul fa' the hands that wad loose sic bands THERE are who say the lover's heart
And the heart that wad part sic luve! Is in the loved one's merged ;
But there 's nae hand can loose the band, 0, never by love's own warm art
But the finger o' God abuve. So cold a plea was urged !
Though the wee, wee cot mann be my bield, No! - hearts that love hath crowned or crossed An' my claithing ne'er sae mean, Love fondly knits together;
I wad lap me up rich i’ the faulds o' luve, – But not a thought or hue is lost
Heaven's armfu'o' my Jean! That made a part of either.
Her white arm wad be a pillow to me,
Fu' safter than the downt;
An' Luve wad winnow owre us his kind, kind It is an ill-told tale that tells
wings, Of “hearts by love made one ;”.
An' sweetly I'd sleep, an' soun'. !Ie grows who near another's dwells
Come here to me, thou lass o' my luve! More conscious of his own ;
Come here and kneel wi' me!
The morn is fu’o' the presence o' God, in each spring up new thoughts and powers That, mid love's warm, clear weather,
An' I canna pray without thee. fogether tend like climbing flowers,
| The morn-wind is sweet 'mang the beds o' new And, turning, grow together.
The wee birds sing kindlie an' hie; Such fictions blink love's better part,
Our gudeman leans owre his kail-yard dike, Yield up its half of bliss ;
And a blythe auld bodie is he. The wells are in the neighbor heart
The Book maun be ta’en whan the carle comes When there is thirst in this:
hame, There findeth love the passion-flowers
Wi’ the holie psalmodie; On which it learns to thrive,
And thou maun speak o' me to thy God, Makes honey in another's bowers,
And I will speak o' thee. But brings it home to hive.