As if she yielded-bit by bit-
Her heart in dots and underlines.

Ah, silvered fool, too late you look!
I know it; let me here record
This maxim: Lend no girl a book
Unless you read it afterward!

FREDERICK SWARTWOUT COZZENS.

AT THE CHURCH GATE.

ALTHOUGH I enter not,

Yet round about the spot
Ofttimes I hover;

And near the sacred gate
With longing eyes I wait,
Expectant of her.

The minster bell tolls out

Above the city's rout,

And noise and humming;

They've hushed the minster bell;

The organ 'gins to swell;

She's coming, coming!

My lady comes at last,
Timid and stepping fast,

And hastening hither,
With modest eyes downcast;

She comes, she's here, she's past!
May Heaven go with her!

Kneel undisturbed, fair saint!
Pour out your praise or plaint
Meekly and duly;

I will not enter there,

To sully your pure prayer
With thoughts unruly.

But suffer me to pace
Round the forbidden place,

Lingering a minute,

Like outcast spirits, who wait,
And see, through heaven's gate,
Angels within it.

WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY.

II.

LOVE'S NATURE.

LOVE.

66

FROM THE MERCHANT OF VENICE," ACT III.

SC. 2.

TELL me where is fancy bred,
Or in the heart, or in the head?
How begot, how nourishèd?
Reply, reply.

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.

SHAKESPEARE.

LOVE IS A SICKNESS.

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

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

Why so?

62

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.

THE SHEPHERD AND THE KING.

AH! what is love? It is a pretty thing,
As sweet unto a shepherd as a king,

And sweeter too;

For kings have cares that wait upon a crown, And cares can make the sweetest face to frown: Ah then, ah then,

If country loves such sweet desires gain, What lady would not love a shepherd swain?

His flocks are folded; he comes home at night As merry as a king in his delight,

And merrier too;

For kings bethink them what the state require, Where shepherds, careless, carol by the fire: Ah then, ah then,

If country loves such sweet desires gain, What lady would not love a shepherd swain?

He kisseth first, then sits as blithe to eat

His cream and curd as doth the king his meat,
And blither too;

For kings have often fears when they sup,
Where shepherds dread no poison in their cup:
Ah then, ah then,

If country loves such sweet desires gain,
What lady would not love a shepherd swain?

Upon his couch of straw he sleeps as sound
As doth the king upon his beds of down,

More sounder too;

For cares cause kings full oft their sleep to spill,
Where weary shepherds lie and snort their fill:
Ah then, ah then,

If country loves such sweet desires gain,
What lady would not love a shepherd swain?

Thus with his wife he spends the year as blithe As doth the king at every tide or syth,

And blither too;

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 a shepherd swain?

LOVE.

ROBERT GREENE.

FROM

HERO AND LEANDER."

It lies not in our power to love or hate,

For will in us is over-ruled by fate.