HER EYES THE GLOW-WORM.

ER eyes the glow-worm lend thee;
The shooting stars attend thee;
And the elves also,

Whose little eyes glow,

Like the sparks of fire, befriend thee!

No will-o'-the-wisp mislight thee!

Nor snake nor slow-worm bite thee

But on, on thy way,

Not making a stay,

Since ghost there's none t' affright thee.

Let not the dark thee cumber,-
What though the moon does slumber?

The stars of the night

Do lend their light,

Like tapers clear, without number.

Then, Julia, let me woo thee,

Thus, thus, to come unto me;
And when I shall meet

Thy silvery feet,

My soul I'll pour into thee.

ROBERT HERRICK.

TRUE LOVE.

T is a golden chain let down from heaven,
Whose links are bright and even;

That falls like sleep on lovers, and
combines

The soft and sweetest minds

In equal knots: this bears no brands, nor darts,

To murder different hearts;

But in a calm and godlike unity

Preserves community.

Oh, who is he, that in this peace enjoys

Th' elixir of all joys?

A form more fresh than are the Eden bowers,
And lasting as her flowers,

Richer than Time, and as Time's virtue rare,
Sober as saddest care:

A fixed thought, an eye untaught to glance—
Who, blest with such high chance,

Would, at suggestion of a steep desire,

Cast himself from the spire

Of all his happiness?

BEN JONSON.

FANCY AND DESIRE.

OME hither, shepherd's swain.
"Sir, what do you require?"
I pray thee, show to me thy name.
"My name is Fond Desire."

When wert thou born, Desire? "In pomp and pride of May." By whom, sweet boy, wert thou begot? "By fond Conceit, men say."

Tell me, who was thy nurse? "Fresh youth in sugar'd joy." What was thy meat and daily food? "Sad sighs with great annoy."

What hadst thou then to drink? "Unsavoury lovers' tears." What cradle wert thou rock'd in ?

"In hope devoid of fears."

What lull'd thee then asleep?

"Sweet speech, which likes me best." Tell me, where is thy dwelling-place? "In gentle hearts I rest."

What thing doth please thee most?
"To gaze on beauty still."

Whom dost thou take to be thy foe?
"Disdain of my good-will."

Doth company displease?
"Yes, surely, many a one."

Where doth Desire delight to live?

"It loves to live alone."

Doth either time or age

Bring him into decay?

"No, no; Desire both lives and dies
Ten thousand times a day."

Then, Fond Desire, farewell!
Thou art no mate for me;

I should be loth, methinks, to dwell
With such a one as thee.

LORD OXFORD,

1562-1604

FROM YOU I HAVE BEEN ABSENT.

SONNET.

ROM you I have been absent in the spring,

When proud-pied April, dress'd in all his trim,

Hath put a spirit of youth in everything,

That heavy Saturn laugh'd and leap'd with him. Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell Of different flowers in odours or in hue,

Could make me any summer's story tell,

Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew;

Nor did I wonder at the lilies white,

Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose :
They were but sweet, but figures of delight,
Drawn after you-you pattern of all those.
Yet seem'd it winter still, and, you away,
As with your shadow, I with these did play.

SHAKESPEARE.