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LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP OPPOSITE.
ER attachment may differ from yours in degree,
Provided they are both of one kind ; But Friendship how tender so ever it be
Gives no accord to Love, however refined.
Love, that meets not with Love, its true nature
revealing, Grows ashamed of itself, and demurs : If you cannot lift hers up to your state of feeling,
You must lower down your state to hers.
NOT AT HOME.
Where Love could never be
Love without Jealousy.
She has a strange cast in her ee,
A swart sour-visaged maid-
His house-mate and his shade.
Ask for her and she'll be denied :
What then ? they only mean
And can't just then be seen.
TO A LADY,
OFFENDED BY A SPORTIVE OBSERVATION THAT
WOMEN HAVE NO SOULS.
I said, you
NAY, dearest Anna ! why so grave ?
had no soul, 'tis true ! For what you are, you cannot have :
'Tis I that have one since I first had you !
I HAVE heard of reasons manifold
Why Love must needs be blind, But this the best of all I hold
His eyes are in his mind.
What outward form and feature are
He guesseth but in part;
He seeth with the heart.
SUGGESTED BY THE LAST WORDS OF BERENGARIUS.
OB. ANNO DOM. 1088. *
No more ’twixt conscience staggering and the
' Pope Soon shall I now before my God appear,
* Literary Souvenir, 1827.
By him to be acquitted, as I hope;
REFLECTION ON THE ABOVE.
Lynx amid moles ! had I stood by thy bed,
Fear haply told thee, was a learned strife,
Ye, who secure 'mid trophies not your own,
Prostrate alike when prince and peasant fell,
Like the weak worm that gems the starless night,
ray That did but guide the night-birds to their prey ?
The ascending day-star with a bolder eye
SANCTI DOMINICI PALLIUM;
A DIALOGUE BETWEEN POET AND FRIEND,
FOUND WRITTEN ON THE BLANK LEAF AT THE BEGINNING
OF BUTLER'S BOOK OF THE CHURCH.
NOTE the moods and feelings men betray,
And heed them more than aught they do or say; The lingering ghosts of many a secret deed Still-born or haply strangled in its birth; These best reveal the smooth man's inward creed ! These mark the spot where lies the treasure Worth !
- made up of impudence and trick,
Absolves anew the Pope-wrought perfidy,
Who now defends would then have done the deed. But who not feels persuasion's gentle sway, Who but must meet the proffer'd hand half way When courteous
POET (aside). (Rome's smooth go-between !)
FRIEND. Laments the advice that sour'd a milky queen(For "bloody" all enlighten'd men confess An antiquated error of the press :) Who rapt by zeal beyond her sex's bounds, With actual cautery staunch'd the Church's wounds ! And tho’ he deems, that with too broad a blur We damn the French and Irish massacre, Yet blames them both—and thinks the Pope might
err ! What think you now? Boots it with spear and
shield Against such gentle foes to take the field Whose beckoning hands the mild Caduceus wield ?