Should my heart be grieved or pined
'Cause I see a woman kind ?
Or a well disposèd nature
Joined with a lovely feature?
Be she meeker, kinder than
Turtle dove or pelican,

If she be not so to me,
What care I how kind she be?

Shall a woman's virtues move
Me to perish for her love?
Or her well-deservings, known,
Make me quite forget my own?
Be she with that goodness blest
Which may gain her name of best,

If she be not so to me,
What care I how good she be?

'Cause her fortune seem too high,
Shall I play the fool and die?
Those that bear a noble mind,
Where they want of riches find,
Think what with them they would do,
That without them dare to woo;

And unless that mind I see,
What care I how great she be?

Great or good, or kind, or fair,
I will ne'er the more despair:
If she love me, this believe,
I will die e'er she shall grieve:
If she slight me when I woo,
I can scorn and let her go;

For if she be not for me
What care I for whom she be?

THE TONE OF LOVE.

(See Tone Drill No. 132.) [The tone of Love manifests the most intense regard. It is more impulsive than Affection, in its strongest forms showing a reckless abandon. There is usually in it a tinge of cooing and coaxing.]

Love's Welcome.

THOMAS DAVIS.

Come in the evening, or come in the morning;
Come when you're looked for, or come without warning;
Kisses, and welcome you'll find here before you,
And the oftener you come here the more I'll adore you !
Light is my heart since the day we were plighted;
Red is my cheek that they told me was blighted;
The green of the trees looks far greener than ever,
And the linnets are singing, "True lovers don't sever!”

I'll pull you sweet flowers to wear if you choose them,
Or, after you've kissed them, they'll lie on my bosom;
I'll fetch from the mountain its breeze to inspire you;
I'll fetch from my fancy a tale that won't tire you.
Oh! your step's like the rain to the summer-vexed farmer,
Or sabre and shield to a knight without armor;
I'll sing you sweet songs till the stars rise above me,
Then, wandering, I'll wish you in silence to love me.

We'll look through the trees at the cliff and the eyrie;
We'll tread round the rath on the track of the fairy;
We'll look on the stars and we'll list to the river,
Till you ask of your darling what gift you can give her.
Oh! she'll whisper you,—“Love as unchangeably beaming,
And trust, when in secret most tunefully streaming
Till the starlight of heaven above us shall quiver,
As our souls flow in one down eternity's river.”

So come in the evening, or come in the morning;
Come when you're looked for, or come without warning;
Kisses and welcome you'll find here before you,
And the oftener you come the more I'll adore you !
Light is my heart since the day we were plighted;
Red is my cheek that they told me was blighted;
The
green

of the trees looks far greener than ever, And the linnets are singing, "True lovers don't sever!”

Two Lovers.

GEORGE ELIOT.

Two lovers by a moss-grown spring:

They leaned soft cheeks together there,

Mingled the dark and sunny hair,
And heard the wooing thrushes sing.

O budding time!
O love's blest prime!

Two wedded from the portal stept;

The bells made happy carollings,

The air was soft as fanning wings,
White petals on the pathway slept.

O pure-eyed bride!
O tender pride!

Two faces o’er a cradle bent:

Two hands above the head were locked;

These pressed each other while they rocked,
Those watched a life that love had sent.

O solemn hour!
O hidden power!

a

Two parents by the evening ire:

The red light fell about their knees
On heads that rose by slow degrees

Like buds upon the lily spire.

O patient life!
O tender strife!

The two still sat together there,

The red light shone about their knees;

But all the heads by slow degrees
Had gone and left that lonely pair.

O voyage fast!

O vanished past !

The red light shone upon the floor

And made the space between them wide;

They drew their chairs up side by side,
Their pale cheeks joined, and said, "Once more !"

O memories!
O past that is !

Romeo to Juliet.

WILLIA: SHAKESPEARE.

Soft! what light through yonder window breaks ! It is the east, and Juliet is the sun! Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief, That thou her maid are far more fair than she: It is my lady; 0, it is my love! 0, that she knew she were ! She speaks, yet she says nothing: what of that? Her eye discourses, I will answer it. I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks : Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, Having some business, do intreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres till they return.

What if her eyes were there, they in her head?
The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars,
As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven
Would through the airy region stream so bright
That birds would sing and think it were not night.
See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand !
0, that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that cheek!

She speaks :
O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art
As glorious to this night, being o'er my head,
As is a winged messenger of heaven
Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes
Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him,
When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds
And sails upon the bosom of the air.

Romeo and Juliet, ii., 2.

TONE OF CONTEMPT.

(See Tone Drill No. 54.) [The tone of Contempt denotes that the person or thing is felt to be unworthy. It says, “You are beneath me,” “I scorn you,' "It disgusts. In its mildest form it is linked with indifference, in the more intense forms it partakes of loathing.]

The Coalition.

DANIEL WEBSTER.

The coalition! The coalition! Ay, "the murdered coalition!” The gentleman asks if I were led or frighted into this debate by the spectre of the coalition. “Was it the ghost of the murdered coalition," he exclaims, "which haunted the member from Massachusetts, and which, like the ghost of Banquo, would never down ?” “The murdered coalition !"