CLXXXVII. LOVE AND FORTUNE. How blest the youth whom fate ordains In some admirèd fair; Whose tenderest wishes find expressed What good soe'er the gods dispense, Still on her love depends; Her love the shield that guards his heart, Thus, Delia, while thy love endures, Conformed by thee before. Thus while I share her smiles with thee, The favours she bestows; Yet not on those I found my bliss, The faithful bosom knows. And when she prunes her wing for flight, Whate'er she gave; thy love alone Happy while that is mine. William Cowper. CLXXXVIII. LOVE'S PLIGHTED PROMISE. IN a soft-complexioned sky, Fleeting rose and kindling grey, Have you seen Aurora fly At the break of day? So my maiden, so my plighted May, Where the inmost leaf is stirred So my lady, so my lovely Love, Have you seen, at heaven's mid-height, Dian pale and hide? So my bright breast-jewel, so my bride, Dante Gabriel Rossetti. CLXXXIX. A LOVE MATCH. IF ove were what the rose is, And I were like the leaf, Blown field or flowerful closes, If I were what the words are, And love were like the tune, With double sound and single Delight our lips would mingle, With kisses glad as birds are That get sweet rain at noon; If I were what the words are, And love were like the tune. If you were life, my darling, And I your Love were death, We'd shine and snow together Ere March made sweet the weather With daffodil and starling And hours of fruitful breath; If you were thrall to sorrow, And laughs of maid and boy; If you were April's lady, And I were lord of May, We'd throw with leaves for hours Till day like night were shady, And night were bright like day; If you were April's lady, And I were lord in May, If you were queen of pleasure, Algernon Charles Swinburne. CXC. LOVE'S OCTOBER. O LOVE, turn from the unchanging sea, and gaze That hangeth o'er the hollow in the wold, Where the wind-bitten ancient elms enfold Grey church, long barn, orchard, and red-roofed stead, Wrought in dead days for men a long while dead. Come down, O Love! may not our hands still meet Since still we live to-day, forgetting June, Forgetting May, deeming October sweet -O hearken, hearken, through the afternoon, The grey tower sings a strange old tinkling tune! Sweet, sweet, and sad, the toiling year's last breath, Too satiate of life to strive with death. And we too-will it not be soft and kind, That rest from life, from patience and from pain, That rest from bliss we know not when we find, That rest from love which ne'er the end can gain ?— -Hark, how the tune swells that erewhile did wane! Look up, love!-Ah, cling close and never move! How can I have enough of life and love! William Morris. CXCI. LOVE'S MONARCHY. My dear and only Love, I pray Which virtuous souls abhor, I'll never love thee more. As Alexander I will reign, My thoughts did evermore disdain He either fears his fate too much, Or his deserts are small, Who dares not put it to the touch, But I will reign and govern still, And in the empire of thy heart, And never love thee more. |