To One Who Knows -

They told me, when I knew thee first,
Thou wert not made for loving,
That next St. Valentine's would see
Thy truant heart a-roving; —

That thou wouldst weary of my love,
Turn from me, and for ever!
That I would meekly bow and weep,
But chide the rover never.

Ah! those were mournful prophecies,
To cloud the sky of youth;
And thou and I, we little thought

Inscription -

TO F. W. C

Flowers pluckt upon a grave by moonlight, pale
And suffering, from the spiritual light
They grew in: these, with all the love and blessing.
That prayers can gain of God, I send to thee!

The Happy Pair


L UCY , since the knot was tied,
Which confirmed thee Strephon's bride,
All is pleasure, all is joy,
Married love can never cloy;
Learn, ye rovers, learn from this,
Marriage is the road to bliss.


Whilst thy kindness every hour
Gathers pleasure with its power,
Love and tenderness in thee
Must be happiness to me.
Learn, ye rovers, learn from this,
Marriage is substantial bliss.


2. The Victory of Death -


I am true to you, Beloved and only Love,
Even though others seem to snatch away
This wayward heart of mine, and every day
Finds me still seeking in each stranger's face
The face I loved, and if at times I trace
A chance resemblance, see your mouth or eyes
(Eyes coloured like the clearest April skies)
I love you again Beloved and only Love.

I am true to you, Beloved and only Love,
Though you have grown indifferent to me;
Since Death has led you where I cannot see

1. The Victory of Love -


Beloved I come to tell you it is Spring!
The old brown earth puts forth pale buds again;
Pierced by the silver arrows of the rain
Her wounded breasts bleed blossoms, violets cling
Across your grave ... and how the wild birds sing!
Safe sheathed in sunshine is fate's sword of pain,
But Beauty beckons to my soul in vain,
Since you are dead what comfort can she bring?
Oh, Lover, I am striving to forget,
But your gay laughter haunts me, and I still
Hunger to hear your voice, that used to thrill

Adele -

A DELE is gayly anecdotal of
The whims and eccentricities of friends.
" Don't think from what I've said, " her story ends.
" That Sue's not sweet! She is! A perfect love! "
Making a dove of Sue, she soils the dove,
Assumes attack and speciously defends,
Plants little lisping doubts and still pretends
She loves that girl all lovely girls above.

Behind Adele's white teeth her pretty tongue
Lies coiled to strike without a warning hiss:
She smiles upon the victim newest stung
And marks the next for poison with a kiss;

Beauty - Part 2

Beauty, Love's Friend, who help'st him to a Throne,
By Wisdom Deify'd, to whom alone
Thy Excellence is known,
And ne're neglected but by those have none;
Thou noble Coyn, by no false sleight allay'd,
By whom we Lovers Militant are paid,
True to the Touch, and ever best
When thou art brought unto the Test,
And who do'st still of higher value prove.
As deeper thou art search'd by Love.
He who allows thee only in the Light
Is there mistaken quite,
For there we only see the outer skin,

Siege, The: Or, Love's Convert, A Tragi-Comedy - Act 5. Scene 8


Misander, Leucasia, Chryse, Euthalpe, Priest, Eudemus, Timophilus, Cleodemus, Patacion,
Epigenes, Scedasus, Terpander.

Mis. Must there be something still to cross our joys?
What is the matter here?
Phi. A Fury, a Fury!
Yonder he slinks.
Cal. And 't please your Majesty
I am no Fury, I'm a Captain, one
They call Callimachus by daylight Sir;
The Angel Sir, the Angel!

Siege, The: Or, Love's Convert, A Tragi-Comedy - Act 5. Scene 7


Nicias slinks in, and placeth himself as behind a
Pillar to take the sight; Callimachus after him
dress'd as a Fury .

Call. Well! a Male Fiend is fit for a She Fury;
Like must to like; so I unto this Widdow.
If any of my Coat should come and take
Acquaintance of me for a recall Fiend,
And find me tripping, I've no other way
But just to swear him down I am a true one

Siege, The: Or, Love's Convert, A Tragi-Comedy - Act 5. Scene 6

ACT . V. S CEN . VI.

Prusias drest like an Angell with a Caduceus in one
hand, and a Taper in the other .

Prus. Thou art an Angell, Prusids , therfore fit
To be receiv'd into her heav'nly Bosome.
She shapes thee in an Habit, that she'l wed thee.
Truly, I think all Courtiers would be Angels,
If that they were not giv'n so much to th' flesh,
That keeps 'em all from Heav'n. But why should I
Be set to guard a Coffin? If there doe


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