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Be what it may the time of day, the place be | O, might we live together in lofty palace hall, where it will,
Where joyful music rises, and where scarlet curSweet looks of Mary Donnelly, they bloom before tains fall ; me still.
0, might we live together in a cottage mean and
small, Her eyes like mountain water that's flowing on
With sods of grass the only roof, and mud the a rock,
only wall ! How clear they are ! how dark they are ! and
O lovely Mary Donnelly, your beauty's my disthey give me many a shock ;
tress ; Red rowans warm in sunshine, and wetted with
It's far too beauteous to be mine, but I 'll never a shower,
wish it less; Could ne'er express the charming lip that has the proudest place would fit your face, and I am me in its power.
But blessings be about you, dear, wherever you Her nose is straight and handsome, her eyebrows
Her chin is very neat and pert, and smooth like
a china cup; Her hair 's the brag of Ireland, so weighty and
THE POSIE. so fine, It 's rolling down upon her neck, and gathered O, LUVE will venture in where it daurna weel be in a twine.
0, luve will venture in where wisdom ance has been ! The dance o' last Whit-Monday night exceeded But I will down yon river rove amang the woods
sae green: all before ;
And a' to pu' a posie to my ain dear May. No pretty girl for miles around was missing from the floor;
The primrose I will pu', the firstling o' the year, But Mary kept the belt of love, and 0, but she and I will pu' the pink, the emblem o' my dear, was gay ;
For she's the pink o' womankind, and blooms She danced a jig, she sung a song, and took my
without a peer : heart away!
And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May.
When she stood up for dancing, her steps were I'll pu' the budding rose, when Phæbus peeps in so complete,
view, The music nearly killed itself, to listen to her For it's like a balmy kiss o' her sweet bonnie mou'; feet;
The hyacinth 's for constancy, wi' its unchanging The fiddler mourned his blindness, he heard her
blue: so much praised,
And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May. But blessed himself he was n't deaf when once her voice she raised.
The lily it is pure, and the lily it is fair,
The daisy 's for simplicity and unaffected air : And evermore I'm whistling or lilting what you
And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May. sung ; Your smile is always in my heart, your name be- The hawthorn I will pu', wi' its locks o'siller gray, side my tongue.
Where, like an aged man, it stands at break o'day; But you've as many sweethearts as you ’d count But the songster's nest within the bush I winna on both your hands,
take away : And for myself there's not a thumb or little
And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May. finger stands.
The woodbine I will pu', when the e'ening star O, you 're the flower of womankind, in country
is near, or in town;
And the diamond draps o' dew shall be her een The higher I exalt you, the lower I'm cast down. sae clear; If some great lord should come this way and see The violet 's for modesty, which weel she fa's to
your beauty bright, And you to be his lady, I'd own it was but right. And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May.
Though they deck no princely halls, In bouquets for glittering balls,
My gentle Mary Lee ! Richer hues than painted walls
Will make them dear to thee; For the blue and laughing sky Spreads a grander canopy Than all wealth's golden skill,
My charming Mary Lee ! Love would make them dearer still,
That offers them to thee.
My wreathéd flowers are few,
My bonny Mary Lee !
Not, I hope, to thee;
Than this of mine to thee;
MAXWELTON braes are bonnie
Her brow is like the snaw drift;
I'll tie the posie round wi' the silken band o' luve, And I'll place it in her breast, and I 'll swear by
a' above, That to my latest draught o' life the band shall
ne'er remove : And this will be a posie to my ain dear May.
I HAVE traced the valleys fair
My bonny Mary Lee !
Gathered all for thee?
My gentle Mary Lee !
Though offered by me?
My fairy Mary Lee !
Like thine own purity.
My esteem for thee.
My bonny Mary Lee.
My gentle Mary Lee,
While it thinks of thee.
My charming Mary Lee ;
And win a smile from thee.
Here's a wild rose just in bud ;
My bonny Mary Lee !
I could find for thee.
My angel Mary Lee,
Can make excuse for me.
LOVE IS A SICKNESS.
Love is a sickness full of woes,
All remedies refusing ;
Why so ?
Love is a torment of the mind,
A tempest everlasting ;
Why so ?
AH! WHAT IS LOVE?
Au ! what is love? It is a pretty thing,
And sweeter too ;
Ah then, ah then, If country loves such sweet desires gain, What lady would not love a shepherd swain ? His flocks are folded ; he comes home at night As merry as a king in his delight,
And merrier too; For kings bethink them what the state require, Where shepherds, careless, carol by the fire :
Ah then, ah then, If country love such sweet desires gain, What lady would not love a shepherd swain ? He kisseth first, then sits as blithe to eat His cream and curd as doth the king his meat,
And blither too; For kings have often fears when they sup, Where shepherds dread no poison in their cup :
Ah then, ah then, If country loves such sweet desires gain, What lady would not love a shepherd swain ? Upon his couch of straw he sleeps as sound As doth the king upon his beds of down,
More sounder too ;
For cares cause kings full oft their sleep to spill,
Ah then, ah then,
Thus with his wife he spends the year as blithe
And blither too; For kings have wars and broils to take in hand, When shepherds laugh, and love upon the land :
Ah then, ah then, If country loves such sweet desires gain, What lady would not love a shepherd swain ?
TELL ME, MY HEART, IF THIS BE LOVE.
When Delia on the plain appears,
If she some other swain commend,
When she is absent, I no more
When fond of power, of beauty vain,
if this be love.
GEORGE LORD LYTTELTON.
How sweet the answer Echo makes
To Music at night
Goes answering light !
Yet Love hath echoes truer far
And far more sweet Than e'er, beneath the moonlight's star, Of horn or lute or soft guitar
The songs repeat.
Like fire in logs, it glows and warms 'em long; And though the flame be not so great,
Yet is the heat as strong.
EARL OF DORSET.
THE AGE OF WISDOM.
Ho! pretty page, with the dimpled chin,
That never has known the barber's shear, All your wish is woman to win ; This is the way that boys begin,
Wait till you come to forty year. Curly gold locks cover foolish brains ;
Billing and cooing is all your cheer, Sighing, and singing of midnight strains, Under Bonnybell's window-panes,
Wait till you come to forty year.
Grizzling hair the brain doth clear ;
have come to forty year. Pledge me round; I bid ye declare,
All good fellows whose beards are gray,
Ever a month was past away?
The brightest eyes that ever have shone,
Ere yet ever a month is gone. Gillian's dead ! God rest her bier,
How I loved her twenty years syne ! Marian's married ; but I sit here, Alone and merry at forty year,
Dipping my nose in the Gascon wine.
Bleed away in
Love and Time with reverence use,
Treat them like a parting friend ; Nor the golden gifts refuse
Which in youth sincere they send : For each year their price is more, And they less simple than before. Love, like spring-tides full and high,
Swells in every youthful vein ; But each tide does less supply,
Till they quite shrink in again. If a flow in age appear, "T is but rain, and runs not clear.
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY.
I thought that morning cloud was blessed, It moved so sweetly to the west.
I saw two summer currents
Flow smoothly to their meeting,
In peace each other greeting;
Such be your gentle motion,
Till life's last pulse shall beat ;
Float on, in joy, to meet
JOHN G. C. BRAINAKD.
The fountains mingle with the river,
And the rivers with the ocean ; The winds of heaven mix forever,
With a sweet emotion ;
All things by a law divine
Why not I with thine ?
See! the mountains kiss high heaven,
And the waves clasp one another; No sister flower would be forgiven
If it disdained its brother;
And the moonbeams kiss the sea : What are all these kissings worth,
If thou kiss not me?
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY,
Ah! do not wanton with those eyes,
Lest I be sick with seeing; Nor cast them down, but let them rise,
Lest shame destroy their being.
Ah! be not angry with those fires,
For then their threats will kill me ; Nor look too kind on my desires,
For then my hopes will spill ine. Ah! do not steep them in thy tears,
For so will sorrow slay me; Nor spread them as distraught with fears, Mine own enough betray me.
Where now I plain
Lacking my life for liberty.
It remedy ;
And all for lack of liberty.
And loss of life for liberty.
Grant me but life and liberty.
And let me die;
My death, or life with liberty.
SIR THOMAS WYATT.
JIY 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. 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 : My true-love hath my heart, and I have his.
SIR PHILIP SIDNEY.
I SAW TWO CLOUDS AT MORNING.
I saw two clouds at morning,
Tinged by the rising sun,
and mingled into one ;