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And yet her voice is in my dreams,
To witch me more and more;
That wooing voice! Ah me, it seems
Less near me than of yore.

Lightly I sped when hope was high,
And youth beguiled the chase;
I follow,-follow still, but I

Shall never see her Face.



Open the temple gates unto my love,
Open them wide that she may enter in,
And all the posts adorn as doth behove,
And all the pillars deck with garlands trim,
For to receive the saint with honor due,
That cometh in to you.

With trembling steps and humble reverence
She cometh in, before the Almighty's view;
Of her, ye virgins, learn obedience,
When so ye come into those holy places,
To humble your proud faces.

Bring her up to the high altar, that she may
The sacred ceremonies there partake,
The which do endless matrimony make;
And let the roaring organs loudly play

OPEN THE TEMPLE GATES. The praises of the Lord in lively notes: The whiles, with hollow throats,

The choristers the joyous anthem sing,


That all the woods may answer, and their echo ring.

Behold, whiles she before the altar stands,
Hearing the holy priest that to her speaks,
And blesseth her with his two happy hands,
How the red roses flush up in her cheeks,
And the pure snow, with goodly vermeil stain,
Like crimson dyed in grain;

That even the angels, which continually
About the sacred altar do remain,

Forget their service, and about her fly,

Oft peeping in her face, that seems more fair The more they on it stare.

But her sad eyes, still fastened on the ground, Are governed with goodly modesty,

That suffers not one look to glance awry, Which may let in a little thought unsound. Why blush ye, love, to give to me your hand, The pledge of all our band?

Sing, ye sweet angels, allelulia sing,

That all the woods may answer, and your echo




Cupid and my Campaspe played
At cards for kisses; Cupid paid.

He stakes his quiver, bow, and arrows,
His mother's doves and team of sparrows;
Loses them too, then down he throws
The coral of his lip, the rose

Growing on's cheek, but none knows how;
With these the crystal of his brow,
And then the dimple of his chin;
All these did my Campaspe win;
At last he set her both his eyes;
She won, and Cupid blind did rise.
O Love, hath she done this to thee?
What shall, alas, become of me!



Fair is my love, and cruel as she's fair;
Her brow shades frown, although her eyes are


Her smiles are lightening, though her pride de


And her disdains are gall, her favors honey.

A modest maid, decked with the blush of honor, Whose feet do tread green paths of youth and



The wonder of all eyes that look upon her!
Sacred on earth, designed a saint above;
Chastity and Beauty, which are deadly foes,
Live reconciled friends within her brow;
And had she Pity to conjoin with those,
Then who had heard the plaints I utter now?
For had she not been fair, and thus unkind,
My muse had slept, and had not known my mind.


There is no life on earth but being in love!
There are no studies, no delights, no business,
No intercourse, or trade of sense, or soul,
But what is love! I was the laziest creature,
The most unprofitable sign of nothing,
The veriest drone, and slept away my life
Beyond the dormouse, till I was in love!
And now I can outwake the nightingale,
Outwatch an usurer, and outwalk him too!
Stalk like a ghost that haunted 'bout a treasure.
And all that fancied treasure, it is love!



"Ye needna' be courtin' at me, auld man, Ye needna' be courtin' at me;

Ye're threescore an' three, an' ye're blin' o' an e'e,
Sae ye needna' be courtin' at me, auld man,
Ye needna' be courtin' at me."

"Stan' aff, noo, an' just lat me be, auld man, Stan' aff, noo, just lat me be;

Ye're auld an' ye're cauld, an' ye're blin', an' ye're bald,

An' ye're nae for a lassie like me, auld man,
Ye're nae for a lassie like me."

"Ha'e patience, an' hear me a wee, sweet lass, Ha'e patience an' hear me a wee;

I've gowpens o' gowd, an' an aumry weel stow'd, An' a heart that lo'es nane but thee, sweet lass, A heart that lo'es nane but thee."

"I'll busk you as braw as a queen, sweet lass, I'll busk you as braw as a queen;

I've guineas to spare, an', hark ye, what's mair, I'm only twa score an' fifteen, sweet lass,

Only twa score and fifteen."

"Gae hame to your gowd an' your gear, auld man,
Gae hame to your gowd an' your gear;
There's a laddie I ken has a heart like mine ain,
An' to me he shall ever be dear, auld man,
To me he shall ever be dear."

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