Ah , what is't to me that the grasshopper sings!
Or what, that the meadows are fair!
That (like little flow'rets, if mounted on wings,)
The butterflies flaunt it in air!
Ye birds, I'll no longer attend to a lay;
Your haunts in the forest resign;
Shall you, with your true loves, be happy all day,
Whilst I am divided from mine?

Where woodbines and willows inclin'd to unite,
We twisted a blooming alcove;
And oft has my Damon, with smiles of delight,
Declar'd it the Mantle of Love.
The roses that crept to our mutual recess,

The attributes of true love

We call that patience, when provoakt we can
Deferr revenge but 'tis True Love in Man
And when wich open hand we would express
Our bounties Tribut some stil't Lavishnes
But they Mistake as far as those despise
All steps wherby another man doth rise
Yet think they have Love too, and boast noe less
Than that She is their constant Patrones:
If Her Decrees be not to seek Her own

To answer Humours who four Elements chose,
Had need the fift, their quarrels to compose.
Sure it is Love doth all together knit;
Love made the world, and Love preserveth it.
Things diff'rent are, but nothing contrary is,
But as intended, or it is remisse.
Ah! why should Med'ciners in their art agree,
Since Natures self's but Contrariety?

I HEARD Love's voice thrill all the waiting Night,
And I arose and followed where he led:
Then Morning mocked me with revealing light —
The great bright world was empty — Love was dead.

Love begetts Fear

'Twas of thy goodnes (Lord) I had
Knowledg of what was good, what bad
Yet through the ill of nature blind
I followd Sin and leaft thy fear behind
Soe forfaited a Blessing; till
Thou of thy free and gratious will
Sign'dst me a pardon in that stile, repent
And soe eschew all punnishment
Thus then awakend, I began
Thy Judgments, Blessings, Love, and fear to scan
And in a scoal when I them all had waighd
Methought I lov'd (Thee) still, still was afraid.

When shall I join the blessed company
Of those this barren world to me denies?
When shall I wake to the new day's surprise,
Beyond the murmur of death's moaning sea,
In that glad home where my best loved ones be;
And know that I have found my Paradise,
Finding again the love that never dies
The heart's dear welcome, biding there for me?

I wait alone upon life's wind-swept beach —
The waves are high — the sea is wild and wide —
Yet Death, bold pilot, all their wrath shall dare,
And guide me to the shore I fain would reach: —

I.

I SHARE your heart with her, its former Queen,
Who taught your lips the song of love to sing —
To whose high altar you were wont to bring
Such laurels as no Fair since Time hath been
Has decked her brow with. Joy was there and teen,
And reverence, as for some most sacred thing
Set high in Heaven for all men's worshipping;
Such laurels gathers no man twice, I ween.

Your second love, ungarlanded, uncrowned —
Fit for life's daily uses, let us say —
Whose lips have never thrilled you with sweet sound,

My tryall and araignment at loves second barr

Why did not some when first I undertook
This task of Love again, guive me my book
The crime is not soe hainous to deprive
Me of my clergy, though again I wive:
My years alow it, and those cannot stay
But each reprive's as bad as cast away
I did confess at first, soe hoapt to find
A salm of mercy but the Judg unkind
Turnd me to such a leaf and line in Her
That the Caldayck is a caracter
Of more facilety and th'Arab scrall
When pointed (by much) more methodicall

I.

A LOFT in air the shrill lark sings,
The swallow shakes her twitt'ring wings,
The Morn unveils her radiant eyes,
And opes the portal of the skies,
Arise, my love, my Laura, rise.

II.

The breathing field is rich with sweets,
The eye, the ear, new transport meets,
The still wind, balmy-blowing, sighs,
And Echo sounds, in soft replies,
Arise, my love, my Laura, rise.

III.

The Spring forbids her buds to break,

(Variant)

Song in a play — " Go not to the Wechernyci, Hritz " )

" Go not, I pray thee, to the dance, Hritz!
For there await thee daughters of the witch.

" They burn the straw beneath the bubbling roots —
They'll take your life just when their wish it suits.

" That one with black, black eyes — most potent witch is she;
She knows all roots that grow by river or by tree.

" She knows what each distils — and she loves you!
With envious love she watches what you do. "