MY 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; SIR PHILIP SIDNEY. I SAW TWO CLOUDS AT MORNING. I SAW two clouds at morning, And in the dawn they floated on, SWEET, BE NOT PROUD. SWEET, be not proud of those two eyes, ROBERT HERRICK. GREEN GROW THE RASHES O! GREEN grow the rashes O, Green grow the rashes 0; The sweetest hours that e'er I spend Are spent amang the lasses O. There's naught but care on ev'ry han', An' 't were na for the lasses O ? The warly race may riches chase, An' riches still may fly them 0; An' though at last they catch them fast, Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them O. Gie me a canny hour at e'en, My arms about my dearie O, An' warly cares an' warly men May all gae tapsalteerie O. For you sae douce, ye sneer at this, Ye're naught but senseless asses O! The wisest man the warl' e'er saw He dearly lo'ed the lasses O. Auld Nature swears the lovely dears Her noblest work she classes 0: Her 'prentice han' she tried on man, An' then she made the lasses O. ROBERT BURNS. THE CHRONICLE. MARGARITA first possessed, If I remember well, my breast, But when awhile the wanton maid Martha soon did it resign Beauteous Catharine gave place To Eliza's conquering face. Eliza till this hour might reign, Mary then, and gentle Anne, Alternately they swayed; And sometimes Mary was the fair, Another Mary then arose, A mighty tyrant she! Had not Rebecca set me free. And Judith reignéd in her stead. One month, three days, and half an hour, Judith held the sovereign power: Wondrous beautiful her face! And so Susanna took her place. And the artillery of her eye, She beat out Susan, by the by. Then Joan, and Jane, and Andria; And then a long et cætera. FROM THE THIRD BOOK OF LAWES'S AYRES. FAIN would I love, but that I fear The fair one she 's a mark to all, 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 that's best By its own beauty drest, And can alone command the rest : Sylvia, for all the pangs you see WILLIAM WALSH. THE MAIDEN'S CHOICE. GENTEEL in personage, Conduct, and equipage; Noble by heritage; Generous and free; Brave, not romantic; Honor maintaining, Engaging and new; Neat, but not finical; Sage, but not cynical; Never tyrannical, But ever true. HENRY FIELDING. 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 pide of hair : Tell me not of your starry eyes, Your lips that seem on roses fed, A bloomy pair of vermeil cheeks These are but gauds: nay, what are lips? And what are cheeks, but ensigns oft 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. Reason masters every sense, And her virtues grace her birth; Lovely as all excellence, Modest in her most of mirth. Such she is; and if you know LOVE ME LITTLE, LOVE ME LONG. ORIGINALLY PRINTED IN 1569. LOVE me little, love me long! Still I would not have thee cold, 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, Say thou lovest me, while thou live While that life endures; Nay, and after death, in sooth, Constant love is moderate ever, A suit of durance let it be, Winter's cold or summer's heat, Never can rebel: Such the love that I would gain, Such the love, I tell thee plain, So to thee SONG. farewell! ANONYMOUS SHALL I love you like the wind, love, And recks not right or wrong? |