BOOK IV

CCIX

LOVE'S DIET

TELL me, fair maid, tell me truly,
How should infant Love be fed;
If with dew-drops, shed so newly
On the bright green clover blade;
Or, with roses plucked in July,
And with honey liquorèd?
O, no! O, no!

Let roses blow,

And dew-stars to green blade cling:
Other fare,

More light and rare,

Befits that gentlest Nursling.

Feed him with the sigh that rushes

'Twixt sweet lips, whose muteness speaks

With the eloquence that flushes

All a heart's wealth o'er soft cheeks;

Feed him with a world of blushes,

And the glance that shuns, yet seeks :
For 'tis with food,

So light and good,

That the spirit child is fed;

And with the tear

Of joyous fear,

That the small Elf's liquorèd.

W. MOTHERWELL.

CCX

TO HELENE-ON A GIFT-RING CARELESSLY

LOST

I SENT a ring—a little band

Of emerald and ruby stone,
And bade it, sparkling on thy hand,

Tell thee sweet tales of one

Whose constant memory

Was full of loveliness and thee.

A shell was graven on its gold,—
'Twas Cupid fix'd without his wings-
To Helene once it would have told
More than was ever told by rings,
But now all's past and gone,

Her love is buried with that stone.

Thou shalt not see the tears that start

From eyes by thoughts like these beguil'd;

Thou shalt not know the beating heart,

Ever a victim and a child:

Yet, Helene, love-believe

The heart that never could deceive.

I'll hear thy voice of melody

In the sweet whispers of the air; I'll see the brightness of thine eye In the blue evening's dewy star; In crystal streams thy purity,

And look on Heaven to look on thee.

CCXI

G. DARLEY.

THE TRYSTING HOUR

THE gowan glitters on the sward,
The lavrock's in the sky,
And Collie on my plaid keeps ward,
And time is passing by.

Oh, no! sad an' slow,

And lengthen'd on the ground,
The shadow of our trystin' bush
It wears sae slowly round!

My sheep-bell tinkles frae the west,
My lambs are bleating near,
But still the sound I lo'e the best,
Alack! I canna' hear.

Oh, no! sad an' slow,

The shadow lingers still,

And like a lanely ghaist I stand
And croon upon the hill.

R