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But I will briefer with them be,
Since few of them were long with me.

An higher and a nobler strain
My present emperess does claim,
Heleonora, first of the name;
Whom God grant long to reign !

ABRAHAM COWLEY.

A DOUBT.

FROM THE THIRD BOOK OF LAWES'S AYRES.

FAIN would I love, but that I fear
I quickly should the willow wear ;
Fain would I marry, but men say
When love is tied he will away ;
Then tell me, love, what shall I do,
To cure these fears, whene'er I woo ?

The fair one she's a mark to all,
The brown each one doth lovely call,
The black 's a pearl in fair men's eyes,
The rest will stoop at any prize ;
Then tell me, love, what shall I do,
To cure these fears whene'er I woo ?

DR. R. HUGHES.

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 glist'ring shoe-tie :
Something more than
Taffeta or tissue can,
Or rampant feather, or rich fan.

A face made up
Out of no other shop
Than what Nature's white hand sets ope.
Sydneian showers
Of sweet discourse, whose powers
Can crown old Winter's head with flowers.
Whate'er delight
Can make day's forehead bright
Or give down to the wings of night.
Soft silken hours,
Open suns, shady bowers ;
'Bove all, nothing within that lowers.
Days, that need borrow
No part of their good morrow
From a fore-spent night of sorrow :
Days, that in spite
Of darkness, by the light
Of a clear mind are day all night.
Life, that dares send
A challenge to his end,
And when it comes, say, “Welcome, friend."
I wish her store
Of worth may leave her poor
Of wishes ; and I wish

Now, if Time knows
That Her, whose radiant brows
Weave them a garland of my vows;
Her that dares be
What these lines wish to see :
I seek no further, it is She.
'T is She, and here
Lo! I unclothe and clear
My wishes' cloudy character.
Such worth as this is
Shall fix my flying wishes,
And determine them to kisses.
Let her full glory,
My fancies, fly before ye ;
Be ye my fictions :

but her story.

R. CRASHAW.

- no more.

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 !
By partners in each other kind,

Afflictions easier grow;
In love alone we hate to find

Companions of our woe.

A face that's best
By its own beauty drest,
And can alone command the rest :

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My dear and only love, I pray,

This noble world of thee
Be governed by no other sway

But purest monarchie.
For if confusion have a part,

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 pride 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, Whose brink when your adventurer slips

Full oft he perisheth on them.

Like Alexander I will reign,

And I will reign alone,
My thoughts shall evermore disdain

A rival on my throne.
He either fears his fate too much,

Or his deserts are small,
That puts it not unto the touch,

To win or lose it all.

JAMES GRAHAM, Earl of Montrose.

MY CHOICE.

And what are cheeks, but ensigns oft

That wave hot youth to fields of blood ? Did Helen's breast, though ne'er so soft,

Do Greece or Ilium any good ?

SHALL I tell you whom I love?

Hearken then awhile to me; And if such a woman move

As I now shall versify,
Be assured 't is she or none,
That I love, and love alone.

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.
So much good so truly tried,
Some for less were deified.
Wit she hath, without desier

To make known how much she hath ; And her anger flames no higher

Than may fitly sweeten wrath.
Full of pity as may be,
Though perhaps not so to me.
Reason masters every sense,

And her virtues grace her birth ;
Lovely as all excellence,

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 ;
Be she brown, or fair, or so

That she be but somewhat young;
Be assured 't is she, or none,
That I love, and love alone.

LOVE me little, love me long !
Is the burden of my song:
Love that is too hot and strong

Burneth soon to waste. Still I would not have thee cold, Not too backward, nor too bold ; Love that lasteth till 't is old

Fadeth not in haste.
Love me little, love me long!
Is the burden of my song.
If thou lovest me too much,
’T will not prove as true a touch ;
Love me little more than such,

For I fear the end.
I'm with little well content,
And a little from thee sent
Is enough, with true intent

To be steadfast, friend.

WILLIAM BROWNE.

LOVE NOT ME FOR COMELY GRACE.

Love not me for comely grace,
For my pleasing eye or face,
Nor for any outward part,
No, nor for my constant heart;
For those may fail or turn to ill,

So thou and I shall sever ;
Keep therefore a true woman's eye,
And love me still, but know not why.
So hast thou the same reason still

To dote upon me ever.

Say thou lovest me, while thou live
I to thee my love will give,
Never dreaming to deceive

While that life endures;
Nay, and after death, in sooth,
I to thee will keep my truth,
As now when in my May of youth :

This my love assures. Constant love is moderate ever, And it will through life persever ; Give me that with true endeavor,

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 !

ANONYMOUS.

HE THAT LOVES A ROSY CHEEK.

ANONYMOUS

He that loves a rosy cheek,

Or a coral lip admires,
Or from starlike eyes doth seek

Fuel to maintain his fires ;
As old Time makes these decay,
So his flames must waste away.
But a smooth and steadfast mind

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.

SONG.

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

T. CAREW.

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Shall I love you like the fire, love,

With furious heat and noise,
To waken in you all love's fears

And little of love's joys ?
The passion of the fire, love,

Whate'er it finds, destroys.

I will love you like the stars, love,

Set in the heavenly blue,
That only shine the brighter

After weeping tears of dew;
Above the wind and fire, love,

They love the ages through !

And when this life is o'er, love,

With all its joys and jars,
We'll leave behind the wind and fire

To wage their boisterous wars,
Then we shall only be, love,

The nearer to the stars !

R. W. RAYMOND.

A “MERCENARY" MARRIAGE.

She moves as light across the grass

As moves my shadow large and tall ; And like my shadow, close yet free, The thought of her aye

follows

me, My little maid of Moreton Hall.

No matter how or where we loved,

Or when we 'll wed, or what befall ;
I only feel she is mine at last,
I only know I 'll hold her fast,

Though to dust crumbles Moreton Hall.

Her pedigree - good sooth, 't is long !

Her grim sires stare from every wall ;
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
And a true heart, the which her eye
Through glittering dross spied, womanly;

Therefore they say her heart was sold !
I laugh ; she laughs ; the hills and vales

Laugh as we ride 'neath chestnuts tall,
Or start the deer that silent graze,
And look up, large-eyed, with soft gaze,

At the fair maid of Moreton Hall ;

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.

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 either hate or... love him so,

I can't be merely civil !

XI.

That thou hast kept a portion back,

While I have staked the whole,
Let no false pity spare the blow,
But in true mercy tell me so.
Is there within thy heart a need

That mine cannot fulfil ? ,
One chord that any other hand

Could better wake or still ? Speak now, lest at some future day My whole life wither and decay. Lives there within thy nature hid

: The demon-spirit, change, Shedding a passing glory still

On all things new and strange ?
It may not be thy fault alone,
But shield my heart against thine own.
Couldst thou withdraw thy hand one day

And answer to my claim,
That fate, and that to-day's mistake,

Not thou, — had been to blame?
Some soothe their conscience thus ; but thou
Wilt surely warn and save me now.
Nay, answer not, - I dare not hear,

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!

"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 ?

XII.

"Such love's a cowslip-ball to Aling,

A moment's pretty pastime ; I give ... all me, if anything,

The first time and the last time.

XIII.

“Dear neighbor of the trellised house,

A man should murmur never, Though treated worse than dog and mouse,

Till doted on forever!”

ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER.

ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.

THE LADY'S “YES."

A WOMAN'S QUESTION.

BEFORE I trust my fate to thee,

Or place my hand in thine,
Before I let thy future give

Color and form to mine,
Before I peril all for thee,
Question thy soul to-night for me.
I break all slighter bonds, nor feel

A shadow of regret :
Is there one link within the past

That holds thy spirit yet?
Or is thy faith as clear and free
As that which I can pledge to thee ?
Does there within thy dimmest dreams

A possible future shine,
Wherein thy life could henceforth breathe,

Untouched, unshared by mine ? If so, at any pain or cost, 0, tell me before all is lost !

“YES," I answered

you

last night; No," this morning, sir, I say. Colors seen by candle-lig!

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 shine, 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.

Look deeper still : if thou canst feel,

Within thy inmost soul,

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