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THE god of Love-ah benedicite!

How mighty and how great a lord is he!
For he of low hearts can make high, if high
He can make low, and unto death bring nigh;
And hard hearts he can make kind and free.
Chaucer, modernized by Wordsworth.

Love's a mighty lord,

And hath so humbled me, as, I confess,
There is no woe to his correction,

Nor to his service, no such joy on earth!
Now, no discourse, except it be of love;
Now can I break my fast, dine, sup, and sleep,
Upon the very naked name of love.


To love,

It is to be all made of sighs and tears;
It is to be all made of faith and service;
It is to be all made of fantasy.

All made of passion, and all made of wishes;
All adoration, duty, and observance;
All humbleness, patience, and impatience;
All purity, all trial.


True gentle Love is like the summer dew,

Which falls around when all is still and hush; And falls unseen until the bright drops strew

With odours, herb and flower, and bank and bush. O Love-when womanhood is in the flush,

And man's a young and an unspotted thing, His first breathed word, and her half-conscious blush, Are fair as light in heaven, or flowers in spring. Allan Cunningham.

Long-waiting love doth entrance find
Into the slow-believing mind. Sydney Godolphin.

Has thy uncertain bosom ever strove
With the first tumults of a real love?

Hast thou now dreaded, and now blessed his sway, By turns averse and joyful to obey?



Who love enjoys, and placed hath his mind
Where fairest virtues fairest beauties grace,
Then to himself such store of worth doth find,
That he deserves to find so good a place.

All tastes, all pleasures, all delights,
That animate this mortal frame,
All are but ministers of Love,
And tend to feed his flame.




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!


Love is a plant of holier birth,
Than any that takes its root on earth;
A flower from heaven, which 't is a crime
To number with the things of time;
Hope in the bud is often blasted,
And beauty on the desert wasted;
And joy, a primrose early gay,
Care's lightest footfall treads away.
But Love shall live, and live for ever,
And chance and change shall reach it never.
Henry Neele.

Love?-I will tell thee what it is to love!
It is to build with human thoughts a shrine,
Where hope sits brooding like a beauteous dove;
Where time seems young, and life a thing divine.
All tastes, all pleasures, all desires combine
To consecrate this sanctuary of bliss;

Above the stars in shroudless beauty shine;
Around the streams their flowery margins kiss;
And if there's heaven on earth, that heaven is surely


Charles Swain.




Oh, sunny Love!
Crown'd with fresh flow'ring May,
Breath like the Indian clove,
Eyes like the dawn of day;
Oh, sunny Love!
Oh, fatal Love!
Thy wreath is nightshade all,
With gloomy cypress wove,
Thy kiss is bitter gall;
Oh, fatal Love!

Frances A. Butler.

Who says he loves and is not wretched, lies; Or that love is not madness, came mad from his mother.

It is the most reasonable thing in nature.
What can we do but love? It is our cup.
Love is the cross and passion of the heart,
Its end-its errand.

P. J. Bailey.


WHо hath not prov'd how feebly words essay
To fix one spark of beauty's heavenly ray?
Who doth not feel, until his failing sight
Faints into dimness with its own delight,
His changing cheek, his sinking heart confess
The might, the majesty of loveliness.

Thou art beautiful, young lady:
But I need not tell you this,
For few have borne, unconsciously,
The spell of loveliness.


Words cannot paint thee, gentlest cynosure

Of all things lovely, in that loveliest form Souls wear the youth of woman! brows as pure

As Memphian skies that never knew a storm; Lips with such sweetness in their honied deeps As fills the rose in which a fairy sleeps.


J. G. Whittier.



LOWLINESS is young ambition's ladder, Whereto the climber-upward turns his face: But when he once attains the utmost round, He then unto the ladder turns his back, Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees By which he did ascend. Shakspere.

The merlin cannot ever soar on high,

Nor greedy greyhound still pursue the chase: The tender lark will find a time to fly,

And fearful hare to run a quiet race.
He that high growth on cedars did bestow,
Gave also lowly mushrooms leave to grow.
In Haman's pomp poor Mordocheus wept,

Yet God did turn his fate upon his foe.
The lazar pin'd, while Dives' feast was kept,
Yet he to heaven-to hell did Dives go.
We trample grass, and prize the flowers of May;
Yet grass is green, when flowers do fade away.


Honour better lowness bears

Than that unwonted greatness wears;
Height with a certain grace does bend,
But low things clownishly ascend.

The flower of sweetest smell
Is shy and lowly.


That lowliness of heart, the highest sense
That loving nature's bounteous hand bestows.
Shelley, from Goethe.

A lowly lot is mine, maiden!
A lowly lot is mine;

But I would not envy kings, maiden!
If thou would'st make it thine.-

If thou would'st make it thine, maiden!

And share that lot with me,

In lowliness thoud'st find, maiden!
Is true felicity!







WE, too, are friends to loyalty; we love

The King who loves the law, respects his bounds, And reigns content within them.


The bounds of loyalty are made of glass;
Soon broke, but can in no date be repaired.

Loyalty is still the same,

Whether it win or lose the game;
True as the dial to the sun,
Although it be not shined upon.



GLAD of such luck, the luckless, lucky maid
A long time with the savage people staid
To gather breath in many miseries.

Farewell, good luck go with thee!

He forced his neck into a noose,
To show his play at fast and loose;
And when he chanced t'escape, mistook
For art and subtlety, his luck.






ONE son at home

Concerns thee more than many guests to come;
If to some useful art he be not bred,
He grows mere lumber, and is worse than dead.


What are riches, empire, pow'r,

But larger means to gratify the will?
The steps on which we tread, to rise and reach
Our wish; and that obtain'd, down with scaffolding
Of sceptres, crowns, and thrones; they have served

their end,

And are, like lumber, to be left and scorn'd.


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