9. Love looks not with the eye, but with the mind, And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind.

SHAKSPEARE.

10. They do not love, that do not show their love.

SHAKSPEARE.

11. They love the least, that let men know their love

SHAKSPEARE.

12. Ah me! for aught that I could ever read, Could ever hear by tale or history,

The course of true love never did run smooth.

SHAKSPEARE.

13. In love, the victors from the vanquish'd fly,

They fly that wound, and they pursue that die.

14. Quoth he, to bid me not to love Is to forbid my pulse to move,

My beard to grow, my ears to stick up,

Or, when I'm in a fit, to hiccup!

15. Almighty pain to love it is,

And 't is a pain that pain to miss ;
But, of all pains, the greatest pain
It is, to love, and love in vain.

16. What is love?

SHAKSPEARE.

BUTLER'S Hudibras.

COWLEY'S Anacreon.

- An odd compound of simples most sweet,
Cull'd in life's spring by Fancy, poor mortals to cheat;
A passion no eloquence yet could improve —
So a sigh best expresses the passion of love.

BATE DUDLEY.

17. Mysterious Love! uncertain treasure,
Hast thou more of pain or pleasure?
Endless torments dwell about thee,
Yet who would live, and live without thee?

ADDISON.

18. Love is not to be reason'd down, or lost

In high ambition, or a thirst of greatness;
"Tis second life; it grows into the soul,
Warms every vein, and beats in every pulse.

ADDISON'S Cato.

19. When love 's well-tim'd, 't is not a fault to love: The strong, the brave, the virtuous and the wise, Sink in the soft captivity together.

ADDISON'S Cato.

20. Let us love temperately; things violent last not;
And too much dotage rather argues folly
Than true affection.

21. With thee conversing I forget all time;

All season and their change, all please alike.

MASSINGER.

MILTON'S Paradise Lost.

22. I find she loves him much, because she hides it.
Love teaches cunning even to innocence;
And when he gets possession, his first work
Is to dig deep within the heart and there

Lie hid, and, like a miser in the dark,
To feast alone.

23. O love! thou sternly dost thy power maintain, And wilt not bear a rival in thy reign; Tyrants and thou all fellowship disdain.

24. Love reigns a very tyrant in my breast,
Attended on his throne by all his guard
Of furious wishes, fears, and nice suspicions.

DRYDEN.

DRYDEN.

OTWAY'S Orphan.

25. Love is, or ought to be, our greatest bliss;

Since every other joy, how dear soever,
Gives way to that, and we leave all for love.

ROWE.

26. Love is a passion by no rules confin'd,

The great first mover of the human mind;
Spring of our fate-it lifts the climbing will,
Or sinks the soften'd soul in seas of ill.
Science, truth, virtue, sweetness, glory, grace,
All own love's influence, and adorn his race;
Love, too, gives fear, despair, grief, anger, strife,
And all th' unnumber'd woes which tempest life.

AARON HILL.
27. Small is the soul's first wound from beauty's dart,
And scarce th' unheeded fever warms the heart;
Long we mistake it under liking's name,
A soft indulgence, that deserves no blame.
Excited, tho', the smother'd fire at length
Bursts into blaze, and burns with open strength;
That image, which before but sooth'd the mind,
Now lords it there, and rages unconfin'd;
Mixing with all our thoughts, it wastes the day,
And when night comes, it dreams the soul away.

28. Love why do we one passion call,

When 't is a compound of them all?

Where hot and cold, where sharp and sweet,
In all their equipages meet;

Where pleasures mix'd with pains appear,
Sorrow with joy, and hope with fear.

29. Love, thou hast every bliss in store,
"Tis friendship, and 't is something more;
Each other every wish they give—

80.

Not to know love, is not to live.

AARON HILL.

DEAN SWIFT.

GAY'S Fables.

I love thee, and I feel

That in the fountain of my heart a seal
Is set, to keep its waters pure and bright
For thee.

SHELLEY.

31. In vain you bid your captive live,

While you the means of life deny;

Give me your smiles, your wishes give
To him who must, without you, die.
Shut from the sun's enlivening beam,

Bid flowers retain their scent and hue;
Its source dried up, bid flow the stream
And me exist, depriv'd of you!

32. In peace, Love tunes the shepherd's reed,
In war, he mounts the warrior's steed;
In halls, in gay attire is seen,
In hamlets, dances on the green.
Love rules the court, the camp, the grove,
And man below, and saints above;
For love is heaven, and heaven is love!

The Padlock.

SCOTT's Last Minstrel.

33. But he who stems a stream with sand,
And fetters flame with flaxen band,
Has yet a harder task to prove
By firm resolve to conquer love.

SCOTT's Lady of the Lake.

34. On thy fond arm with pleasing gaze I hung,
And heard sweet music murmur o'er thy tongue;
Hand lock'd in hand, with gentle ardour prest,
Pour'd soft emotions through the heaving breast;
In magic transport heart with heart entwin'd,
And in sweet languor lost the melting mind.

35. Not vernal showers to budding flowers,
Not Autumn to the farmer,

So dear can be as thou to me,
My fair, my lovely charmer!

DR. DWIGHT.

BURNS.

36. Had we never lov'd so kindly, Had we never lov'd so blindly, Never met, or never parted,

We had ne'er been broken-hearted.

37. Yes, love indeed is light from heaven,
A spark of that immortal fire,
With angels shar'd, by Allah given
To lift from earth our low desire.

BURNS.

BYRON'S Giaour.

To live within himself; she was his life,
The ocean to the river of his thoughts,
Which terminated all: upon a tone,

A touch of hers, his blood would ebb and flow,
And his cheek change tempestuously.

BYRON'S Dream.

39. Oh, Love! what is there in this world of ours
Which makes it fatal to be lov'd? Ah, why
With cypress branches hast thou wreath'd thy bowers,
And made thy best interpreter a sigh?

40.

BYRON'S Don Juan.

Love will find its way

Thro' paths where wolves would fear to prey.

41. There glides a step thro' the foliage thick,

BYRON'S Giaour.

And her cheek grows pale- and her heart beats quick;
There whispers a voice thro' the rustling leaves,

And her blush returns, and her bosom heaves.

BYRON'S Parisina.

42. Sweet Florence! could another ever share

This wayward, loveless heart, it would be thine;

But, check'd by every tie, I may not dare
To cast a worthless offering at thy shrine.

BYRON'S Childe Harold.