Then die, that she

The common fate of all things rare
May read in thee:

How small a part of time they share,
That are so wondrous sweet and fair.

E. WALLER.

100.

The Power of Love.

A LOVER'S eyes will gaze an eagle blind;
A lover's ear will hear the lowest sound,
When the suspicious head of theft is stopped:
Love's feeling is more soft and sensible
Than are the tender horns of cockled snails;
Love's tongue proves dainty Bacchus gross in taste :
For valour, is not Love a Hercules,'

2

Still climbing trees in the Hesperides? 2

Subtle as Sphinx ; 3 as sweet and musical

As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair;

And, when Love speaks, the voice of all the gods
Make heaven drowsy with the harmony.
Never durst poet touch a pen to write,

Until his ink were tempered with Love's sighs;
O, then his lines would ravish savage ears,
And plant in tyrants mild humility.
From women's eyes this doctrine I derive:
They sparkle still the right Promethean5 fire ;
They are the books, the arts, the academes,
That show, contain, and nourish all the world.
W. SHAKESPEARE.

I A great hero, who ranked, after death, among the Greek gods. He is chiefly famous for a series of wonderful exploits, known as the twelve labours of Hercules.

2 A garden in which golden apples grew. One of Hercules' labours was to procure some of these apples, which were guarded by a dragon.

3 A monster, with the head of a woman, and human voice, the tail of a serpent, the body of a dog, the wings of a bird, and the paws of a lion. It kept the surrounding country in alarm by proposing strange riddles, and devouring people who could not explain them.

4 The god of the fine arts.

5 Prometheus was said to have stolen fire from the chariot of the sun, and restored it to the earth; Jupiter, the king of the gods, having taken it away in a fit of anger.

103.

Love not to be Restrained.

Julia's lover, Proteus, has gone from Verona to Milan. She determines to follow him.

Enter JULIA and LUCETTA.

Jul. Counsel, Lucetta; gentle girl, assist me!
And, even in kind love, I do conjure thee,—
Who art the table wherein all my thoughts
Are visibly charactered and engraved,-
To lesson me, and tell me some good mean,
How, with my honour, I may undertake
A journey to my loving Proteus.

Luc. Alas! the way is wearisome and long.
Ful. A true-devoted pilgrim is not weary
To measure kingdoms with his feeble steps;
Much less shall she, that hath Love's wings to fly;
And when the flight is made to one so dear,

Of such divine perfection as Sir Proteus.

Luc. Better forbear, till Proteus make return.

Jul. O, knowest thou not, his looks are my soul's food? Pity the dearth that I have pinèd in,

By longing for that food so long a time.

Didst thou but know the inly touch of love,

Thou wouldst as soon go kindle fire with snow

As seek to quench the fire of love with words.

Luc. I do not seek to quench your love's hot fire,

But qualify the fire's extreme rage,

Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason.

Jul. The more thou damm'st it up, the more it burns; The current, that with gentle murmur glides,

Thou knowest, being stopped, impatiently doth rage;

But, when his fair course is not hinderèd,

He makes sweet music with the enamelled stones,
Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge
He overtaketh in his pilgrimage;

And so by many winding nooks he strays,
With willing sport to the wild ocean.
Then let me go, and hinder not my course:
I'll be as patient as a gentle stream,
And make a pastime of each weary step,
Till the last step have brought me to my love;

And there I'll rest, as after much turmoil
A blessed soul doth in Elysium.'

W. SHAKESPEARE.

104.

So is it not with me as with that muse,
Stirred by a painted beauty to his verse;
Who heaven itself for ornament doth use,
And every fair with his fair doth rehearse ;
Making a couplement of proud compare,

With sun and moon, with earth and sea's rich gems,
With April's first-born flowers, and all things rare
That heaven's air in this huge rondure hems.
O, let me, true in love, but truly write,
And then believe me, my love is as fair
As any mother's child, though not so bright
As those gold candles fixed in heaven's air.

Let them say more that like of hearsay well :
I will not praise, that purpose not to sell.
W. SHAKESPEARE.

105.

A Boundless Love.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use

In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose

With my lost saints,—I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life!—and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

E. B. BROWNING. (From the Portuguese.)

I A place in the infernal regions where the souls of the virtuous were supposed to dwell in complete happiness after death.

ΙΟΙ.

The Perfect Lover.

HONEST lover whatsoever,

If in all thy love there ever

Was one wav'ring thought, if thy flame
Were not still even; still the same;
Know this,

Thou lov'st amiss,

And to love true,

Thou must begin again, and love anew.

If when she appears i' the room,
Thou dost not quake, and art struck dumb,
And in striving this to cover

Dost not speak thy words twice over,
Know this,

Thou lov'st amiss,

And to love true,

Thou must begin again, and love anew.

If fondly thou dost not mistake,
And all defects for graces take,
Persuad'st thyself that jests are broken,
When she hath little or nothing spoken,
Know this,

Thou lov'st amiss,

And to love true,

Thou must begin again, and love anew.

If when thou appearest to be within,
Thou lett'st not men ask and ask again;
And when thou answerest, if it be
To what was asked thee properly,
Know this,

Thou lov'st amiss,

And to love true,

Thou must begin again, and love anew.

If when thy stomach calls to eat,
Thou cutt'st not fingers 'stead of meat,
And with much gazing on her face,
Dost not rise hungry from the place,

Know this,
Thou lov'st amiss,

And to love true,

Thou must begin again, and love anew.
If by this thou dost discover
That thou art no perfect lover,
And desiring to love true,
Thou dost begin to love anew,
Know this,

Thou lov'st amiss,

And to love true,

Thou must begin again, and love anew.

102.

SIR J. SUCKLING.

To Anthea, who may Command Him any

thing.

BID me to live, and I will live

Thy Protestant to be;

Or bid me love, and I will give
A loving heart to thee;

A heart as soft, a heart as kind,
A heart as sound and free

As in the whole world thou canst find,
That heart I'll give to thee.

Bid that heart stay, and it will stay

To honour thy decree;

Or bid it languish quite away,

And 't shall do so for thee.

Bid me to weep, and I will weep,
While I have eyes to see;
And having none, yet I will keep
A heart to weep for thee.
Bid me despair, and I'll despair,
Under that cypress tree;
Or bid me die, and I will dare
E'en death, to die for thee.

Thou art my life, my love, my heart,
The very eyes of me;

And hast command of every part,

To live and die for thee.

R. HERRICK.