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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 high. To a Lady singing a Song of his Composing.

E. WALLER.

Is she not more than painting can express, Or youthful poets fancy when they love ?

SHAKESPEARE.

The Fair Penitent, dctiil, Sc. I.

N. ROWE

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, Act iii. Sc. 2.
Her eyes the glow-worm lend thee,
The shooting-stars attend thee ;

And the elves also,

Whose little eyes glow
Like the sparks of fire, befriend thee.

The Night Piece to Fulia.
The sweetest garland to the sweetest maid.

To a Lady; with a Present of Flowers.

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R. HERRICK

FLATTERY.
Banish all compliments but single truth.

Faithful Shepherdess, BEAU'MONT and FLETCHER.

T. TICKELL.

LOVE.

IF IT BE TRUE THAT ANY BEAUTEOUS Forgive me if I cannot turn away
THING.

From those sweet eyes that are my earthly

heaven, Te 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 Goul, 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.
I have no care for any other thing,
Whilst thus I love. Nor is it marvellous,
Since the effect is not of my own power,
If the soul doth, by nature tempted forth,

WERE I AS BASE AS IS THE LOWLY Enamored through the eyes,

PLAIN.
Repose upon the eyes which it resembleth,
And through them riseth to the Primal Love,

WERE I as base as is the lowly plain,
As to its end, and honors in admiring;

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.

swain
MICHAEL ANGELO (Italian). Translation
of J. E. TAYLOR.

Ascend to heaven, in honor of my Love.

SONNET.

Were I as high as heaven above the plain,
And you, my Love, as humble and as low
As are the deepest bottoms of the main,
Wheresoe'er you were, with you my Love should

go.

Muses, that sing Love's sensual empirie,
And lovers kindling your enraged fires
At ('upid's bonfires burning in the eye,
Blown with the empty breath of vain desires ;
You, that prefer the painted cabinet
Before the wealthy jewels it doth store ye,
That all your joys in dying figures set,
And stain the living substance of your glory ;
A bjure those joys, abhor their memory;
And let my love the honored subject be
Of love and honor's complete history !
Your eyes were never yet let in to see
The majesty and riches of the mind,
That dwell in darkness; for your god is blind.

Were you the earth, dear Love, and I the skics,
My love should shine on you like to the sun,
And look upon you with ten thousand eyes
Till heaven waxed blind, and till the world were

done.

Wheresoe'er I am, below, or else above you, Wheresoe'er you are, my heart shall truly love you.

JOSHUA SYLVESTER.

GEORGE CHAPMAN.

LIGHT

THE MIGHT OF ONE FAIR FACE.

The night has a thousand eyes,

The day but one ;
Yet the light of the bright world dies

With the dying sun.

The might of one fair face sublimes my love,
For it hath weaned my heart from low desires ;
Nor death I lieed, nor purgatorial fires.
Thy beauty, antepast of joys above,
Instructs me in the bliss that saints approve ;
For 0, how good, how beautiful, must be
The Goul that niade so good a thing as thee,
So fair an image of the heavenly Dove !

The nind has a thousand eyes,

And the heart but one ;
Yet the light of a whole life dies
When its love is done.

FRANCIS W. BOURDILLON

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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 & shepherd swain ?

I saw two summer currents

Flow smoothly to their meeting,
And join their course, with silent force,
In peace

each other greeting; Calm was their course through banks of green, While dimpling eddies played between.

ROBERT GREENE.

Such be your gentle motion,

Till life's last pulse shall beat ;
Like summer's beanı, and summer's stream,

Float on, in joy, to meet
A calmer sea, where storms shall cease,
A purer sky, where all is

peace.
JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD.

THE FRIAR OF ORDERS GRAY.

TELL ME, MY HEART, IF THIS BE

LOVE. Whex Delia on the plain appears, Awed by a thousand tender fears, I would approach, but dare not move ; Tell me, my heart, if this be love. Whene'er she speaks, my ravished ear No other voice than hers can hear ; No other wit but hers approve ; Tell me, my heart, if this be love. If she some other swain commend, Though I was once his fondest friend, His instant enemy I prove ; Tell me, my heart, if this be love. When she is absent, I no more Delight in all that pleased before, The clearest spring, the shadiest grove ;Tell me, my heart, if this be love. When fond of power, of beauty vain, Her nets she spread for every swain, I strove to hate, but vainly strove ;Tell me, my heart, if this be love.

It was a friar of orders gray

Walked forth to tell his beads ; 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 ?" “0, by his cockle hat, and staff,

And by his sandal shoon.

GEORGE, LORD LYTTELTON.

MY TRUE-LOVE HATH MY HEART.

“But chiefly by his face and mien,

That were so fair to view ; His Maxen locks that sweetly curled,

And eyes of lovely blue."

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.

“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.

“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 in the dawn they floated on,

And mingled into onte ;
I thought that morning cloud was blest,
It moved so sweetly to the west.

“And art thou dead, thou gentle youth!

And art thou dead and gone ? And didst thou die for love of me?

Break, cruel heart of stone !"

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