When all the Stars are by thee told,
(The endless Sums of heav'nly Gold)
Or when the Hairs are reckon'd all,
From sickly Autumns Head that fall,
Or when the drops that make the Sea ,
Whilst all her Sands thy Counters be;
Thou then, and Thou alone maist prove
Th' Arithmetician of my Love
An hundred Loves at Athens score,
At Corinth write an hundred more
Fair Corinth does such Beauties bear,
So few is an Escaping there
Write then at Chios seventy three;
Write then at Lesbos (let me see)
Write me at Lesbos ninety down,

Trip along, bright feet of May,
Trip along from day to day,
Trip along in sun and showers,
Trip along and wake the flowers,
Trip along the breezy hills,
Trip beside the prattling rills.
Trip along, in light and song,
Trip away, all fresh and gay,
Trip away, bright feet of May!

Trip along, when morning shines,
Trip along, when day declines,
Trip along, when, in the night,
Moon and stars are sparkling bright;
Trip across the sunny sea,
Over cloudland high and free.
Trip along, in light and song,

Surely, if such a thing could be,
The best of sunlight fell on thee;
The softest of the stars of night
Shed down on thee its sweetest light.

Surely, if such a thing could be,
Noon kept its gentlest rays for thee;
The lightest of the winds of morn
Across thy weary brow was borne.

The freshest dew that eve ere shed
Fell in its coolness on thy head;
The fairest of the flowers that bloom
Reserved for thee their rich perfume.

Yet tho' this earth which thou hast made
Its best for thee might hourly spread,

As one who longs for cooling drink,
The cruel fires of thirst to quench,
When haply on one verdant branch
He saw two apples, stays to think
Which may be best, and both desires:
So was I by two maids perplexed;
But now at last my choice is fixed;
And one true love my soul inspires.

As Ocean foams and harshly roars
When two fierce winds assail his breast,
In fearful strife from east and west;
Nor ever to repose restores
His waves till one is overthrown;
So by two flames my soul assailed
Raged till the fiercest flame prevailed;

I love the mountain torrent dashing,
Downward, in thunder loud, and hoarse,
With snow-white foam, in fury, lashing
The rugged rocks that break its course —
I love the thunder, rumbling, crashing,
Peal after peal along the skies,
While from the clouds, the lightning flashing
In death-ful splendour, strikes — destroys —

I love the soul no danger fearing,
Still onward rushing to its goal,
All that impedes its course down-bearing,
Proud, fiery, broking no control
I love the conqu'ror's name declaring

Still my loved Minstrel I admire
The strains of thy enchanted lyre
Still thy sad lays so wildly sweet
I read—and while I read I weep
Nor do I check the burning tear
For 'tis a silent tribute dear
To Souls like thine which would inspire
Each breast with sympathetic fire
Byron thy noble lofty mind
Has been the sport of passions blind
Phrenzy has havocked in thy brain
With all her desolating train
But that is past—and now you roam
Far from your wife—your child your home
Joys which might still have been your own

Wide asunder in the azure All,
Mayst thou see two Starlets moving
That from far, so gladly, yet so sadly,
For a thousand years, were looking, loving;
Till a brief ambrosial kiss,
One, but one, as fast they rush together,
Brings them love's ethereal bliss,
And again, thro' pathless Space they sever:
Yet will Love, god-consecrate,
Flame for ever thro' the Night of Fate

Late it was the time had come
When those Starlets two united,
And, amid the dancing and the glancing
Of remotest Suns, did kiss delighted;

The Spanish Ladies Loue to an English Gentleman.

Will you heare a Spanish Lady
 how she wooed an Englishman:
Garments gay as rich as may be,
 deckt with Iewels had she on,
Of a comely countenance,
 and grace was she:
And by birth and parentage
 of high degree.

As his prisoner there he kept her,
 in his hands her life did lye:
Cupids bands did tie her faster,
 by the liking of her eye.
In his courteous company,
 was all her ioy;
To fauour him in any thing,
 she was not coy.

A loving cup! Ah, could I fill
The slender measure of my line
With that delicious, witching wine
Your autumn-tinted eyes distil,
Then while my muse should gayly trip,
My door I'd dup
To radiant memories, and sip
A loving cup!

Go, take your glass, and looking there,
Confess your face is wondrous fair!
Then wonder when I tell you true
'Tis fairer far to me than you.
For now it fills my heart with joy,
Now drinks it up!
Why should you treat it like a toy —
A loving cup?

There are only four letters in " Love, "
Yet how fully it speaks for the heart!
How liquid it drops from the tongue
As it lets the lips kiss once and part!

For love is a lore of itself;
The sages, unschooled in its ways,
Though they know all the books on the shelf,
Are but simpletons still all their days.

Breath of flower, gleam of gem, song of bird,
Blush of blossom of Dawn or of cheek —
Still it's love that's the one magic word
That they all wait to hear or to speak.

The planets that never rebel,