I leave thee, love! In vain hast thou
 The God of life implored;
My clinging soul is torn from thine,
 My faithful, my adored!
My last gift,—I have on it breathed
 In blessing and in prayer;
So lay it close, close to thy heart,
 This little lock of hair!

I know thou wilt think tenderly
 And lovingly on me,
Thou wilt forget my waywardness,
 When I am gone from thee;
Thou wilt remember all my love,
 Which made thee think me fair;
Thou wilt with many tears be-gem
 This little lock of hair!

There rode through the country three gallants so fine,
They came to the Landlady, hard by the Rhine.

" Landlady, hast thou good ale and good wine?
And how is that beautiful daughter of thine? "

" My ale and my wine are fresh and clear,
But my dear little daughter lies dead on her bier. "

And when they were come to the chamber within,
All cold in her coffin, the maiden was seen.

The first, from her face the death-veil he took,
And looked at her long with a sorrowful look;

I.

On earth I know immortal love,
And taste of all the joys above;
My soul enjoys the great I AM ;
And there's no pleasure but in him.

II.

My light is but a feeble ray,
Yet it is from eternal day;
Nay, joys are by my Jesus giv'n,
And he is all the joys of heav'n.

III.

Though in my self I am but death,
Yet Christ in me the word of faith,
Lifts up my heart to realms above,
And feeds me with immortal love.

IV.

O when shall I be wholly free?
I want no joys, O GOD , but thee;

I.

All hail thou lovely Lamb of GOD !
This day with us make thine abode,
And cheer our spirits with thy love;
We long to see thy smiling face,
And run with thee the christian race,
To thine eternal realms above.

II.

O heal the sick and raise the dead,
And feed us with immortal bread;
Warm ev'ry heart, loose ev'ry tongue;
O let thy love our souls inflame,

Ah, more than my mouth thirsts for your drink!
Up creeps desire, warm through my blood,
Surging into my heart, whence it must sink
And ebb away, until the newer flood
Breaks over me, straining in my distress.
And still we keep us tarrying at the kiss!
My readiness complete do you not guess,
I cannot tell it, cannot ask my bliss —
I cannot ask. With all my will I plead
My lips to speak, and still they hold me dumb —
Dumb, waiting you, who only wait my need!
O wait no longer, love; O love, come! come.

If 'tis love to wish you near,
To tremble when the wind I hear,
Because at sea you floating rove:
If of you to dream at night,
To languish when you're out of sight,
If this be loving — then I love.

II:

If, when you're gone, to count each hour,
To ask of every tender power
That you may kind and faithful prove;
If, void of falshood and deceit,
I feel a pleasure now we meet,
If this be loving — then I love.

III.

P ALLAS .

Pallas , the guardian of the slighted stage ,
Brings a complaint , that fires her into rage:
Stung to the soul , she cannot — will not, bear it,
But for the sex's honour must declare it.

O F fifty powder'd beaux ; here, wedgid , behind,
Not one fast friend can fading woman find!
They rail — they joke — nor their distaste conceal ;
Unconscious of your power , from head , to heel!

Cupid ! thou airy God of empty dreams!

Of two reliefs to ease a love-sick mind,
Flavia prescribes despair: I urge Be kind.
Flavia be kind; the remedy's as sure;
'Tis the most pleasant, and the quickest cure.

Now Serena, bee not coy;
Since wee frely may enjoy
Sweete imbraces: such delights,
As will shorten tedious nightes.
Thinke that beauty will not stay
With you allwaies, but away,
And that tyrannizing face
That now holdes such perfect grace,
Will both chaing'd and ruined bee;
So fraile is all thinges as wee see,
So subject unto conquering Time.
Then gather Flowers in theire prime,
Let them not fall and perish so;
Nature her bountyes did bestow
On us that wee might use them: And
Tis coldnesse not to understand

No more, vain wretch! such trifling arts pursue,
These public fooleries will never do!
Love's secret flames, like lamps, shou'd bury'd lie,
The very moment they take air, they die.
Women , thro' crowds , can unfeign'd passion spy,
Skill'd, in the rhet'ric of a speaking eye:
But when, regardless of their fame, you move,
Your glare of folly blinds their eye of love .