Yet, what is love? Good shepherd, show.-
A thing that creeps; it cannot go ;
A prize that passeth to and fro;
A thing for one, a thing for moe;
And he that proves shall find it so ;
And, shepherd, this is love, I trow.

Sir Walter Raleigh.

III.

WHAT LOVE IS.

A SICKNESS FULL OF WOE.

LOVE is a sickness full of woes,
All remedies refusing;

A plant that most with cutting grows,
Most barren with best using.

Why so?

More we enjoy it, more it dies;
If not enjoyed, it sighing cries,
Heigh-ho!

Love is a torment of the mind,
A tempest everlasting;

And Jove hath made it of a kind
Not well, nor full, nor fasting.

Why so?

More we enjoy it, more it dies;

If not enjoyed, it sighing cries,

Heigh-ho!

Samuel Daniel.

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IV.

LOVE THE ADVENTURER,

Over the mountains

And over the waves,

Under the fountains

And under the graves;
Under floods that are deepest,
Which Neptune obey;
Over rocks that are steepest,
Love will find out the way.

Where there is no place

For the glow-worm to lie;
Where there is no space
For receipt of a fly;

Where the midge dares not venture
Lest herself fast she lay;

If Love come, he will enter

And soon find out his way.

You may esteem him

A child for his might;

Or you may deem him

A coward from his flight;

But if she whom love doth honour
Be concealed from the day,
Set a thousand guards upon her,
Love will find out the way.

Some think to lose him

By having him confined; And some do suppose him,

Poor thing, to be blind;

It is engendered in the eyes,
With gazing fed; and Fancy dies
In the cradle where it lies:

Let us all ring Fancy's knell,

I'll begin it,-Ding, dong, bell.

Ding, dong, bell.

William Shakespeare.

VI.

LE PUITS D'AMOUR.

WHENCE is this fountain that floweth
For ever so full and free?

Blest be the warm wind that bloweth
The waves of the fountain to me.

I give, nor weary of giving

From the fountain; and still the more

I give of the waters living,

Fuller they flow than before!

I give-as to me it is given,

And my sorrow is changed to mirth, For I think in the hills of heaven

That fountain must have its birth.

Elizabeth D. Bullock.

VII.

A WELL OF LOVE.

BETTER to sit at the waters' birth,
Than a sea of waves to win,
To live in the love that floweth forth,
Than the love that cometh in.

Be thy heart a well of love, my child,
Flowing, and free, and sure;

For a cistern of love, though undefiled,

Keeps not the spirit pure.

George MacDonald.

VIII.

LOVE THE ranger.

How delicious is the winning
Of a kiss at love's beginning,
When two mutual hearts are sighing
For the knot there's no untying!

Yet remember, 'midst your wooing,
Love has bliss, but Love has ruing;
Other smiles may make you fickle,
Tears for other charms may trickle.

Love he comes, and Love he tarries,
Just as fate or fancy carries;

Longest stays, when sorest chidden;
Laughs and flies, when pressed and bidden.

Bind the sea to slumber stilly,
Bind its odour to the lily,

Bind the aspen ne'er to quiver,

Then bind Love to last for ever.

Love's a fire that needs renewal

Of fresh beauty for its fuel:

Love's wing moults when caged and captured ; Only free, he soars enraptured.

Can you keep the bee from ranging,
Or the ringdove's neck from changing?
No! nor fettered Love from dying
In the knot there's no untying.

Thomas Campbell.