love poem

AN ODE .

Love is a noble, rich repast,
But seldom should the lover taste;
When the kind fair no more restrains,
The glutton surfeits and disdains.

To move the nymph he tears bestows;
He vainly sighs, he falsely vows:
The tears deceive, the vows betray;
He conquers, and contemns the prey.

Thus Ammon's son with fierce delight
Smil'd at the terrors of the fight;
The thoughts of conquest charm'd his eyes;
He conquer'd, and he wept the prize.

( " Madame, autour de vous. " )

Lady, such spirit of sense is yours to entrance
Men's souls; your song's so sweet, and, when you dance,
Hearts so for bliss beat higher;
So lovely is the light no summer skies
Contain, the dew of pity in your deep eyes,
Of love the sunnier fire, —

That when you deign, young Star than heaven's more bright,
To lighten with one glorious smile the night
Whose shadow round us clingeth,

Clorinda, why this coy restraint,
This force upon your nature?
That love is strong, and reason faint,
Appears in every feature.
No longer then hoard up your charms,
As misers do their gold!
But fly into your lover's arms,
Nor fear reproach till old.
If virtue is a friend to love,
As ancient sages taught,
We then by force of reason prove,
To love is not a fault.

Sweet birds that inhabit my trees,
Melodious heralds of morn;
No more can your harmony please,
Since Phillida's left me forlorn.

You saw yester eve in the grove,
Sweet blushes vermillion'd her cheek;
You heard her approve of my love,
And vow she'd mine in a week.

Ye minstrels, she's false as the wind,
She's fled to a far richer swain.
Yet tho' she has prov'd so unkind,
Love bids me in silence complain;
While Hope, with a tender concern,
Says, Phillida yet may return.

I

Gloom!
An October like November;
August a hundred thousand hours,
And all September;
A hundred thousand dragging sunlit days,
And half October like a thousand years ...
And doom!
That then was Antwerp ...
In the name of God,
How could they do it?
Those souls that usually dived
Into the dirty caverns of mines;
Who usually hived
In whitened hovels; under ragged poplars;
Who dragged muddy shovels over the grassy mud,

Collin , for Love expiring, crys,
To see the Nymph , before he dies .
She went in Pity , 'tis confess'd,
She went; but deck'd in all her Best .

INTENDED FOR MUSIC

Clad in flow'r-embroider'd veil,
Hail, auspicious morning, hail!
When in Hymen's holy bands
Blooming Emily, the fair,
And Eugenio, happy pair!
Chang'd their hearts, and join'd their hands.
Virgin coldness then relented,
Like the snow before the sun,
Then sweet Emily consented,
Not unwilling, to be won.

AIR

Believe me, love, I've kept the day,
But not with noise or glee —
I've cheer'd my heart, though far away,
With quiet thoughts of thee.

I have not breathed thy name above
The wine-cup's sparkling tide —
But oh! I've dreamt of all the love,
I've shared when by thy side.

The glowing picture of thy youth,
In maiden charms attired;
The vows of tenderness and truth
Thy modest worth inspired,

The ardent hopes, the anxious fears,
That mark our wedded lot —

Believe me, Love, dear inmate of my breast,
Friendship shall never break my faith with thee;
No, though too oft thou robb'st my soul of rest,
My solemn vows shall ever sacred be.

My heart, that proudly boasts the purest flame
That ever blazed before thy sacred shrine,
Can ne'er, seduced by friendship's specious name,
Confess her calmer joys are more divine.

By thee alone my soul has long been taught

O Strephon! how useless your Counsel must prove,
Who sighs for Belinda for ever must love;
For thus the dread Power of Love has decreed!
Who once wears her Fetters shall never be freed,
On absolute Beauty an absolute Sway
Is justly bestow'd, and with Pride we obey.