MY SOUL IS WEDDED UNTO THINE.

By every hope that earthward clings,
By faith that mounts on angel wings,
By dreams that make night shadows bright,
And truths that turn our day to night;
By childhood's smile, and manhood's tear;
By pleasure's day and sorrow's year;
By all the strains that fancy sings,
And pangs that time so surely brings :
For joy or grief, for hope or fear;
For all hereafter as for here;

In peace or strife, in storm or shine,
My soul is wedded unto thine.

T.K. Hervey.

WHO CAN BLAME ME IF I LOVE?
Who can blame me if I love?
Since Love before the world did move.
When I loved not, I despair'd,
Scarce for handsomeness I cared;
Since so much I am refined,
As new framed of state and mind,

Who can blame me if I love?
Since Love before the world did move.

Some in truth of Love beguiled,
Have him blind and childish styled;
But let none in these persist,
Since so judging judgment mist.
Who can blame me?

Love in chaos did appear:

When nothing was, yet he seem'd clear:
Nor when light could be descried,
To his crown a light was tied.
Who can blame me?

Love is Truth, and doth delight, Whereas Honour shines most bright: Reason's self doth Love approve, Which makes us ourselves to love. Who can blame me?

Could I my past time begin,
I would not commit such sin,

To live an hour, and not to love;
Since Love makes us perfect prove.

Who can blame me?
Lady Mary Wroth.

A wise man will not discourage that discretion in a mistress which will be his glory and security in a wife.

S. Richardson.

LOVERS ON THEIR STARS MUST WAIT.
Only tell her that I love,

Leave the rest to her and fate,
Some kind planet from above
May, perhaps, her pity move.

Lovers on their stars must wait :
Only tell her that I love.

Why, oh why, should I despair?
Mercy's pictured in her eye;
If she once vouchsafe to hear,
Welcome hope, and welcome fear;
She's too good to let me die :
Why, oh why, should I despair?

Cutts.

LOVE LIVES NOT WITHIN THE HUMOUR
OF THE EYE.

Love, dearest lady, such as I would speak,
Lives not within the humour of the eye;
Not being but an outward phantasy,
That skims the surface of a tinted cheek,
Else it would wane with beauty, and grow
weak,

As if the rose made summer—and so be Amongst the perishable things that die. Unlike the love which I would give and seek, Whose health is of no hue-to feel decay, With cheeks' decay, that have a rosy prime. Love is its own great loveliness alway, And takes new lustre from the touch of time; Its boughs own no December, and no May, But bears its blossom into winter's clime.

Hood.

LOVE MELTS TWO RAYS OF LIGHT
IN ONE.

Beloved, in the noisy city here
The thought of thee can make all turmoil
cease,

Around my spirit folds thy spirit clear

Its still, soft arms, and circles it with peace; There is no room for any doubt or fear

In souls so overfill'd with love's increase, There is no memory of the bygone year But growth in heart's and spirit's perfect

ease:

How hath our love, half nebulous at first,
Rounded itself into a full-orb'd sun!
How have our lives and wills (as haply erst
They were, ere this forgetfulness begun)
Through all their earthly distantness outburst,
And melted, like two rays of light, in one!
Lowell.

EVEN IN SHADOWS YOU ARE FAIR.

Look out, bright eyes, and bless the air;
Even in shadows you are fair.
Shut-up beauty is like fire,

That breaks out clearer still and higher.
Though your beauty be confined,

And soft Love a prisoner bound,
Yet the beauty of your mind

Neither check nor chain hath found.
Look out nobly, then, and dare
Ev'n the fetters that you wear!

Beaumont and Fletcher.

HOW TO GAIN MEN'S AFFECTIONS.

Modesty in dress is a powerful attractive to honourable love. The male heart is a study, in which your sex are supposed to be a good deal conversant. Yet in this study, you must give me leave to say, many of them seem to me but indifferent proficients. To gain men's affections, women in general are naturally desirous. They need not deny, they cannot conceal it. The sexes were made for each other. We wish for a place in your hearts why should you not wish for one in ours? But how much are you deceived, my fair friends, if you dream of taking that fort by storm! When you show a sweet solicitude to please by every decent, gentle, unaffected attraction, we are soothed, we are subdued, we yield ourselves your willing captives. But if at any time by a forward appearance you betray a confidence in your charms, and by throwing them out upon us all at once you seem resolved, as it were, to force our admiration, that moment we are on our guard, and your assaults are vain, provided at least we have any spirit or sentiment. In reality, they who have very little of either, I might have said they who have none, even the silliest, even the loosest men shall in a sober mood be taken with the bashful air and reserved dress of an amiable young woman, infinitely more than they ever were with all the open blaze of laboured beauty and arrogant claims of undisguised allurement; the human heart, in its better sensations, being still formed to the love of virtue.

Let me add, that the human imagination hates to be confined. We are never highly delighted where something is not left us to fancy. This last observation holds true throughout all nature, and all art. But when I speak of these, I must subjoin, that art being agreeable no farther than as it is conformed to nature, the

one will not be wanted in the case before uz if the other be allowed its full influence. What I mean is this; that supposing a young lady to be deeply possessed with a regard for "whatsoever things are pure, venerable, and of a good report," it will lead to decorum spontaneously, and flow with unstudied propriety through every part of her attire and demeanour. Let it be likewise added, that simplicity, the inseparable companion both of genuine grace and of real modesty, if it do not always strike at first (of which it seldom fails) is sure, however, when it does strike, to produce the deepest and most permanent impressions. Fordyce.

IN HER CHEEK THE FLUSHING
MORNING LIES.

On tiptoe, laughing like the blue-eyed May, And looking aslant, where a spoil'd urchin strives

(In vain) to reach the flowers she holds on high,

Stands a young girl, fresh as the dawn, with all

Her bright hair given to the golden sun!
There standeth she whom Midnight never saw,
Nor Fashion stared on with its arrogant eye,
Nor gallant tempted ;-beautiful as youth:
Waisted like Hebe; and with Dian's step,
As she, with sandals newly laced, would rise
To hunt the fawn through woods of Thessaly.
From all the garden of her beauty nought
Has flown: no rose is thwarted by pale hours;
But on her living lip bright crimson hangs,
And in her cheek the flushing morning lies,
And in her breath the odorous hyacinth.

GENTLE DEAUTY.

Anon.

Her face was sweet, and with a pensive life
That would dispel the birth or germ of strife.
Hers was a mind as pure as happy spring,
Smooth as the dove's unruffled gentle wing;
Fill'd with much knowledge, yet her simple
ways

Deeming all worthy but herself of praise;
She, better yet than most-to her unknown-
She saw the good of others, not her own.
E. Millen.

And gentle smiles that never fail'd to please.

Harte.

WITHIN THY BEING ALL MINE OWN

INURNED.

I would be with thee-near thee-ever near thee

Watching thee ever, as the angels are; Still seeking with my spirit-power to cheer thee,

And then to see me, but as some bright star,

Knowing me not, but yet ofttimes perceiving

That when thou gazest I still brighter grow, Beaming and trembling-like some bosom heaving

With all it knows, yet would not have thee know.

I would be with thee-fond, yet silent ever, Nor break the spell in which my soul is bound:

Mirror'd within thee as within a river:
A flower upon thy breast, and thou the
ground!

That, when I died and unto earth return'd,
Our natures never more might parted be:
Within thy being all mine own inurn'd-
Life, bloom, and beauty, all absorb'd in
thee !
Charles Swain.

DEEP LOVE TOLD BY SILENCE.

How might he tell if aught could move
Her grief child heart? Yet love slew fear,
Lull'd speech to sleep-sweet to be near;
Yea, even if a 1 were changed, if all
Into this dumb, strange life must fall,
And all the longing and the pain
For signs of love were spent in vain ;
If, in strange wise together brought,
They were apart still, and still nought
Might tell of better hope! O sweet,
Beyond all words, there at her feet
To lie and watch her! By what word
Might his deep love be better heard
Than by that silence?
W. Morris.

NOBLY IN Love.

How swiftly time doth pass away
Where happiness completes the day!
Weeks, months, and years, but moments
prove

To those that nobly are in love.
This computation's only known
To them that our pure flame can own.
Succeeding years example take

By those are past; their numbers wake
Envy, while with a will resign'd
No will is known till th' other's mind.

Hon. Gertrude Thimelby (on New Year's Day, 1651).

A RESPONSE IN HAPPY TEARS.

I felt her youthful bosom heave,

And listen'd to the din

Of joyous life within:

My forehead felt her lightly breathe,
As with her breath it rose;

And in our blest repose

Her two arms clasp'd my neck, while eve In shadowy silence came

And quench'd the western flame, That linger'd round her as if loth to leave.

Then told I in a whisper'd tone

Of that approaching time,
When merry peal and chime

Of marriage ringing should make known,
In crashes through the air,
Exultingly we were

By solemn rite each other's own ;
And she, confiding, meek,
Against mine press'd her cheek,
And gave response in happy tears alone.
Thomas Woolner.

HAND IN HAND WANDERING FORTH.

It was the cooling hour, just when the rounded

Red sun sinks down behind the azure hill, Which then seems as if the whole earth it bounded,

Circling all nature, hush'd, and dim, and still,

With the far mountain-crescent half surrounded

On one side, and the deep sea calm and chill

Upon the other, and the rosy sky

With one star sparkling through it like an

eye.

And thus they wander'd forth, and hand in hand,

Over the shining pebbles and the shells, Glided along the smooth and harden'd sand; And in the worn and wild receptacles Work'd by the storms, yet work'd as it were ⚫ plann'd,

In hollow halls with sparry roofs and cells, They turn'd to rest; and, each clasp'd by an arm,

Yielded to the deep twilight's purple charm.

They look'd up to the sky, whose floating glow

Spread like a rosy ocean, vast and bright; They gazed upon the glittering sea below, Whence the broad moon rose circling into sight;

They heard the waves' splash, and the wind so low,

And saw each other's dark eyes darting light

Into each other-and, beholding this,
Their lips drew near, and clung into a kiss.

Byron.

A MUSCULAR LOVER'S IDEAL.

Eustace might have sat for Hercules;
So muscular he spread, so broad of breast.
He, by some law that holds in love, and
draws

The greater to the lesser, long desired
A certain miracle of symmetry,
A miniature of loveliness, all grace
Summed up and closed in little.

Tennyson.

A LOVER'S FAREWELL.

So sweetly she bade me adieu,
I thought that she bade me return.

Shenstone.

WITHOUT YOU I AM NOTHING.

I feel as if something must happen to rob me of my happiness-as if an invisible hand were outstretched, even now, to snatch you from me. I never leave you without a vague dread lest it should be the last time that I behold you; and I never return to the house without asking myself what I should do if you were gone, no one knew whither! At night I start from sleep calling upon your name, and fancying we are parted for ever. I know that these are absurd terrors; but is it my fault if I suffer from them? Till you are wholly and irrevocably mine it must be thus. Without you I am nothing, not even myself. Tortured by a thousand fears and follies, I count every day and every hour that lies between me and the fulfilment of my hopes. Do you wonder at it? I have never yet been happy, and happiness is just within my grasp I have thirsted, and an angel holds the cup to my lips. I have wandered all my life in the desert, and Paradise is opening before me! If I am a coward, it is because I love you, and because to lose you were to lose all that makes existence precious!

Amelia B. Edwards.

THE ABSENT ONE.

If thou wert by my side, my love,
How fast would evening fail
In green Bengala's palmy grove,
Listening to the nightingale!

I miss thee at the dawning gray,
When, on our deck reclined,
In careless ease my limbs I lay
And woo the cooler wind.

I miss thee when by Gunga's stream
My twilight steps I guide,

But most beneath the lamp's pale beam

I miss thee from my side.

I spread my books, my pencil try,
The lingering noon to cheer,
But miss thy kind, approving eye,
Thy meek, attentive ear.

But when at morn and eve the star
Beholds me on my knee,

I feel, though thou art distant far,
Thy prayers ascend for me.

Reginald Heber.

I hold you as a thing enskyed and sainted. Shakespeare.