As roses, when the warm west blows,

Break to full flower and sweeten spring,
My soul would break to a glorious rose
In such wise at his whispering.

In vain I listen; well away!
My love says nothing any day.

You that will weep for pity of love
On the low place where I am lain,
I pray you, having wept enough,
Tell him for whom I bore such pain,
That he was yet, ah! well away!
My true love to my dying day.

Algernon Charles Swinburne.

CCLXXXIX.

LOVE DYING OF UNKINDNESS.

REMEMBER.

REMEMBER me when I am gone away,

Gone far away into the silent land;

When you can no more hold me by the hand, Nor I half turn to go, yet turning stay.

Remember me when no more day by day

You tell me of our future that you planned ;
Only remember me: you understand

It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve :
For if the darkness and corruption leave

A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile,
Than that you should remember and be sad.
Christina Rossetti.

CCXC.

LOVE DYING OF UNKINDNESS.

SWEET LOVE, SWEET DEATH.

SWEET is true love, though given in vain, in vain ;
And sweet is death that puts an end to pain:
I know not which is sweeter, no, not I.

Love, art thou sweet? then bitter death must be:
Love, thou art bitter; sweet is death to me.
O Love, if death be sweeter, let me die.

Sweet love, that seems not made to fade away,
Sweet death, that seems to make us loveless clay,
I know not which is sweeter, no, not I.

I fain would follow love, if that could be;

I needs must follow death, who calls for me:
Call and I follow, I follow! let me die.

Alfred Tennyson.

CCXCI.

THE DEATH OF LOVE.

A GLORY LEFT BEHIND.

"O LADY, thy lover is dead," they cried;

He is dead, but hath slain the foe; He hath left a name to be magnified

In a song of wonder and woe." "Alas! I am well repaid," she said,

"With a pain that stings like joy; For I feared from his tenderness to me He was but a feeble boy.

"Now I shall hold my head on high, The queen among my kind.

If

ye hear a sound, 't is only a sigh
For a glory left behind."

George MacDonald.

CCXCII.

THE DEATH OF LOVE.

DROWNED IN YARROW.

Down in yon garden sweet and gay
Where bonnie grows the lily,

I heard a fair maid sighing say,

"Willie's rare, and Willie's fair,
And Willie's wondrous bonny;
And Willie hecht to marry me
Gin e'er he married ony.

"O gentle wind, that bloweth south,
From where my love repaireth,
Convey a kiss frae his dear mouth,
And tell me how he fareth!

"O tell sweet Willie to come doun And hear the mavis singing, And see the birds on ilka bush

And leaves around them hinging.

"The lav'rock there, wi' her white breast
And gentle throat sae narrow;
There's sport eneuch for gentlemen
On Leader haughs and Yarrow.

"O Leader haughs are wide and braid
And Yarrow haughs are bonny;
There Willie hecht to marry me
If e'er he married ony.

"But Willie's gone, whom I thought on, And does not hear me weeping,

Draws many a tear frae true love's e'e
When other maids are sleeping.

"Yestreen I made my bed fu' braid,
The night I'll mak' it narrow,
For a' the live-lang winter night
I lie twined o' my marrow.

"O came ye by yon water-side?
Pou'd you the rose or lily?
Or came you by yon meadow green,
Or saw you my sweet Willie ?"

She sought him up, she sought him down,
She sought him braid and narrow;

Syne, in the cleaving of a craig,

She found him drowned in Yarrow !

Anonymous.

CCXCIII.

THE DEATH OF LOVE.

BURD HELEN.

I WISH I were where Helen lies;
Night and day on me she cries;
O that I were where Helen lies
On fair Kirconnell lea!

Curst be the heart that thought the thought,
And curst the hand that fired the shot,
When in my arms burd Helen dropt,
And died to succour me!

O think na but my heart was sair

When my Love dropt down and spak na mair!

I laid her down wi' meikle care
On fair Kirconnell lea.

As I went down the water-side,
None but my foe to be my guide,
None but my foe to be my guide,
On fair Kirconnell lea;

I lighted down my sword to draw,
I hacked him in pieces sma',
1 hacked him in pieces sma',

For her sake that died for me.

O Helen fair, beyond compare !
I'll make a garland of thy hair
Shall bind my heart for evermair
Until the day I die.

O that I were where Helen lies!
Night and day on me she cries;
Out of my bed she bids me rise,

"

Says, Haste and come to me!"

O Helen fair! O Helen chaste !
If I were with thee, I were blest,
Where thou lies low and takes thy rest
On fair Kirconnell lea.

I wish my grave were growing green,
A winding-sheet drawn ower my een,
And I in Helen's arms lying,

On fair Kirconnell lea.

I wish I were where Helen lies:
Night and day on me she cries;
And I am weary of the skies,

Since my Love died for me.

Anonymous.

CCXCIV.

THE DEATH OF LOVE.

MAKING HER MOAN.

My love he built me a bonnie bower,
And clad it all with lily flower;
A braver bower you ne'er did see,
Than my true Love he built for me.