So fair thy pensile beauty burns
When soft the tear of twilight flows;
So due thy plighted love returns

To chambers brighter than the rose;

To peace, to pleasure, and to Love
So kind a star thou seem'st to be,
Sure some enamoured orb above

Descends and burns to meet with thee !

Thine is the breathing, blushing hour
When all unheavenly passions fly,
Chased by the soul-subduing power
Of Love's delicious witchery.

O! sacred to the fall of day,

Queen of propitious stars, appear, And early rise, and long delay When Caroline herself is here!

Shine on her chosen green resort

Whose trees the sunward summit crown, And wanton flowers, that well may court An angel's feet to tread them down;

Shine on her sweetly-scented road,

Thou star of evening's purple dome, That lead'st the nightingale abroad, And guid'st the pilgrim to his home;

Shine where my charmer's sweeter breath
Embalms the soft exhaling dew,
Where dying winds a sigh bequeath
To kiss the cheek of rosy hue,-

Where, winnowed by the gentle air,
Her silken tresses darkly flow,

And fall upon her brow so fair,

Like shadows on the mountain snow.

Thus, ever thus, at day's decline
In converse sweet to wander far-
O bring with thee my Caroline,

And thou shalt be my ruling Star!

Thomas Campbell.

CXXI.

LOVE'S PRAISES.

LOVE'S PLACE OF EMPIRE.

As late each flower that sweetest blows

plucked, the garden's pride! Within the petals of the rose

A sleeping Love I spied.

Around his brows a beamy wreath
Of many a lucent hue;

All purple glowed his cheek, beneath,
Inebriate with dew.

I softly seized the unguarded Power,
Nor scared his balmy rest :

And placed him, caged within the flower,
On spotless Sara's breast.

But when, unweeting of the wile,

Awoke the prisoner sweet, He struggled to escape awhile,

And stamped his faery feet.

Ah! soon the soul-entrancing sight
Subdued the impatient boy!

He gazed! he thrilled with deep delight!
Then clapped his wings for joy.

"And O!" he cried, "of magic kind

What charms this throne endear!

Some other Love let Venus find;

I'll fix my empire here."

Samuel Taylor Coleridge.

CXXII.

LOVE'S PRAISES.

O FAIR AND SWEET.

O FAIREST thou,

Tearing the silk-leaved blooms in waywardness,
Thy pretty feet among the smooth-faced flowers,
Can I forget

To crown thee with the worship of a song?
O fair and sweet,

Thou movest in thy harmony among

The lavish spring and all her twinkling bowers. Why should I set

Thy lyric loveliness to harsher song?

John Leicester Warren.

CXXIII.

LOVE SLEEPING.

SLEEP on, and dream of Heaven awhile-
Though shut so close thy laughing eyes,
Thy rosy lips still wear a smile

And move, and breathe delicious sighs!
Ah, now soft blushes tinge her cheeks
And mantle o'er her neck of snow:
Ah, now she murmurs, now she speaks
What most I wish--and fear to know!

She starts, she trembles, and she weeps!
Her fair hands folded on her breast:
-And now, how like a saint she sleeps!
A seraph in the realms of rest!

Sleep on secure! Above control,

Thy thoughts belong to Heaven and thee : And may the secret of thy soul

Remain within its sanctuary!

Samuel Rogers.

CXXIV.

LOVE UNREASONING.

A TRUE WOMAN'S EYE.

LOVE not me for comely grace,
For my pleasing eye or face,
Nor for any outward part,
No, nor for my constant heart,--
For those may fail, or turn to ill,
So thou and I shall sever :
Keep therefore a true woman's eye,
And love me still, but know not why-
So hast thou the same reason still
To doat upon me ever!

Anonymous.

CXXV.

LOVE UNREASONING.

NOT HOW, NOR WHY.

'Tis not her birth, her friends, nor yet her treasure. Nor do I covet her for sensual pleasure,

Nor for all that old morality,

Do I love her 'cause she loves me.

Sure he that loves his lady 'cause she's fair,
Delights his eye,-so loves himself, not her.
Something there is moves me to love, and I
Do know I love, but know not how, nor why.
Alexander Brome.

CXXVI,

LOVE FOR LOVE'S SAKE ONLY.

IF thou must love me, let it be for nought
Except for love's sake only. Do not say
"I love her for her smile-her look-her way
Of speaking gently, -for a trick of thought

That falls in well with mine, and certes brought
A sense of pleasant ease on such a day'

For these things in themselves, Belovèd, may Be changed, or change for thee,-and love, so wrought,

May be unwrought so. Neither love me for
Thine own dear pity's wiping my cheeks dry,-
A creature might forget to weep, who bore
Thy comfort long, and lose thy love thereby !
But love me for love's sake, that evermore
Thou mayst love on, through love's eternity.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

CXXVII.

LOVE FOR LOVE.

WERT thou yet fairer in thy feature,
Which lies not in the power of Nature;
Or hadst thou in thine eyes more darts
Than ever Cupid shot at hearts :
Yet if they were not thrown at me,
I would not cast a thought on thee.

I'd rather marry a disease

Than court a thing I could not please :
She that would cherish my desires
Must meet my flame with equal fires :
What pleasure is there in a kiss

To him that doubts the heart's not his ?

I love thee not because thou'rt fair,

Softer than down, smoother than air;
Nor for the Cupids that do lie

In either corner of thine eye :

Wouldst thou then know what it might be ?

'Tis I love thee 'cause thou lov'st me.

Anonymous.