MY TRUE-LOVE HATH MY HEART. My true-love hath my heart, and I have his, By just exchange one to the other given : I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss, There never was a better bargain driven : My true-love hath my heart, and I have his.

His heart in me keeps him and me in one; My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides:

He loves my heart, for once it was his own;
I cherish his because in me it bides:
My true-love hath my heart, and I have his.

SIR PHILIP SIDNEY.

I SAW TWO CLOUDS AT MORNING.

I SAW two clouds at morning,
Tinged by the rising sun,

And in the dawn they floated on,
And mingled into one;

SWEET, BE NOT PROUD.

SWEET, be not proud of those two eyes,
Which starlike sparkle in their skies;
Nor be you proud that you can see
All hearts your captives, yours yet free.
Be you not proud of that rich hair,
Which wantons with the lovesick air;
Whenas that ruby which you wear,
Sunk from the tip of your soft ear,
Will last to be a precious stone
When all your world of beauty 's gone.

ROBERT HERRICK.

GREEN GROW THE RASHES O!

GREEN grow the rashes O,

Green grow the rashes 0; The sweetest hours that e'er I spend Are spent amang the lasses O.

There's naught but care on ev'ry han',
In every hour that passes O;
What signifies the life o' man,

An' 't were na for the lasses O ?

The warly race may riches chase,

An' riches still may fly them 0; An' though at last they catch them fast, Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them O.

Gie me a canny hour at e'en,

My arms about my dearie O, An' warly cares an' warly men May all gae tapsalteerie O.

For you sae douce, ye sneer at this, Ye're naught but senseless asses O! The wisest man the warl' e'er saw

He dearly lo'ed the lasses O.

Auld Nature swears the lovely dears Her noblest work she classes 0: Her 'prentice han' she tried on man, An' then she made the lasses O.

ROBERT BURNS.

THE CHRONICLE.

MARGARITA first possessed,

If I remember well, my breast,
Margarita first of all;

But when awhile the wanton maid
With my restless heart had played,
Martha took the flying ball.

Martha soon did it resign
To the beauteous Catharine.

Beauteous Catharine gave place
(Though loath and angry she to part
With the possession of my heart)

To Eliza's conquering face.

Eliza till this hour might reign,
Had she not evil counsels ta'en;
Fundamental laws she broke,
And still new favorites she chose,
Till up in arms my passions rose,
And cast away her yoke.

Mary then, and gentle Anne,
Both to reign at once began;

Alternately they swayed;

And sometimes Mary was the fair,
And sometimes Anne the crown did wear,
And sometimes both I obeyed.

Another Mary then arose,
And did rigorous laws impose;

A mighty tyrant she!
Long, alas! should I have been
Under that iron-sceptred queen,

Had not Rebecca set me free.
When fair Rebecca set me free,
'T was then a golden time with me:
But soon those pleasures fled;
For the gracious princess died
In her youth and beauty's pride,

And Judith reignéd in her stead.

One month, three days, and half an hour, Judith held the sovereign power:

Wondrous beautiful her face!
But so weak and small her wit,
That she to govern was unfit,

And so Susanna took her place.
But when Isabella came,
Armed with a resistless flame,

And the artillery of her eye,
Whilst she proudly marched about,
Greater conquests to find out,

She beat out Susan, by the by.
But in her place I then obeyed
Black-eyed Bess, her viceroy-maid,
To whom ensued a vacancy:
Thousand worse passions then possessed
The interregnum of my breast;
Bless me from such an anarchy!
Gentle Henrietta then,
And a third Mary next began;

Then Joan, and Jane, and Andria;
And then a pretty Thomasine,
And then another Catharine,

And then a long et cætera.

FROM THE THIRD BOOK OF LAWES'S AYRES.

FAIN would I love, but that I fear
I quickly should the willow wear;
Fain would I marry, but men say
When love is tied he will away;
Then tell me, love, what shall I do,
To cure these fears, whene'er I woo?

The fair one she 's a mark to all,
The brown each one doth lovely call,
The black's a pearl in fair men's eyes,
The rest will stoop at any prize;
Then tell me, love, what shall I do,
To cure these fears whene'er I woo?

DR. R. HUGHES.

WISHES FOR THE SUPPOSED MISTRESS.

WHOE'ER she be,

That not impossible She

That shall command my heart and me ;

Where'er she lie,

Locked up from mortal eye

In shady leaves of destiny:

Till that ripe birth

Of studied Fate stand forth,

And teach her fair steps to our earth;

Till that divine

Idea take a shrine

Of crystal flesh, through which to shine :

Meet you her, my Wishes,

Bespeak her to my blisses,

And be ye called, my absent kisses.

I wish her beauty

That owes not all its duty

To gaudy tire, or glist'ring shoe-tie :

Something more than

Taffeta or tissue can,

Or rampant feather, or rich fan.

A face that's best

By its own beauty drest,

And can alone command the rest :

Sylvia, for all the pangs you see
Are lab'ring in my breast;
I beg not you would favor me,
Would you but slight the rest!
How great soe'er your rigors are,
With them alone I'll cope;
I can endure my own despair,
But not another's hope.

WILLIAM WALSH.

THE MAIDEN'S CHOICE.

GENTEEL in personage, Conduct, and equipage; Noble by heritage; Generous and free;

Brave, not romantic;
Learned, not pedantic ;
Frolic, not frantic,
This must he be.

Honor maintaining,
Meanness disdaining,
Still entertaining,

Engaging and new;

Neat, but not finical; Sage, but not cynical; Never tyrannical,

But ever true.

HENRY FIELDING.

THE LOVELINESS OF LOVE.

It is not Beauty I demand,

A crystal brow, the moon's despair, Nor the snow's daughter, a white hand, Nor mermaid's yellow pide of hair :

Tell me not of your starry eyes,

Your lips that seem on roses fed,
Your breasts, where Cupid tumbling lies
Nor sleeps for kissing of his bed,

A bloomy pair of vermeil cheeks
Like Hebe's in her ruddiest hours,
A breath that softer music speaks
Than summer winds a-wooing flowers ;·

These are but gauds: nay, what are lips?
Coral beneath the ocean-stream,
Whose brink when your adventurer slips
Full oft he perisheth on them.

And what are cheeks, but ensigns oft
That wave hot youth to fields of blood?
Did Helen's breast, though ne'er so soft,
Do Greece or Ilium any good?

Nature did her so much right

As she scorns the help of art. In as many virtues dight

As e'er yet embraced a heart. So much good so truly tried, Some for less were deified.

Wit she hath, without desier

To make known how much she hath ; And her anger flames no higher

Than may fitly sweeten wrath.
Full of pity as may be,
Though perhaps not so to me.

Reason masters every sense,

And her virtues grace her birth; Lovely as all excellence,

Modest in her most of mirth.
Likelihood enough to prove
Only worth could kindle love.

Such she is; and if you know
Such a one as I have sung;
Be she brown, or fair, or so
That she be but somewhat young;
Be assured 't is she, or none,
That I love, and love alone.

LOVE ME LITTLE, LOVE ME LONG.

ORIGINALLY PRINTED IN 1569.

LOVE me little, love me long!
Is the burden of my song:
Love that is too hot and strong
Burneth soon to waste.

Still I would not have thee cold,
Not too backward, nor too bold;
Love that lasteth till 't is old
Fadeth not in haste.
Love me little, love me long!
Is the burden of my song.

If thou lovest me too much,

'T will not prove as true a touch; Love me little more than such, For I fear the end.

I'm with little well content,
And a little from thee sent
Is enough, with true intent
To be steadfast, friend.

Say thou lovest me, while thou live
I to thee my love will give,
Never dreaming to deceive

While that life endures;

Nay, and after death, in sooth,
I to thee will keep my truth,
As now when in my May of youth:
This my love assures.

Constant love is moderate ever,
And it will through life persever;
Give me that with true endeavor, -
I will it restore.

A suit of durance let it be,
For all weathers, - that for me,
For the land or for the sea:
Lasting evermore.

Winter's cold or summer's heat,
Autumn's tempests on it beat;
It can never know defeat,

Never can rebel:

Such the love that I would gain,

Such the love, I tell thee plain,
Thou must give, or woo in vain :

So to thee

SONG.

farewell!

ANONYMOUS

SHALL I love you like the wind, love,
That is so fierce and strong,
That sweeps all barriers from its path

And recks not right or wrong?
The passion of the wind, love,
Can never last for long.