Yet feel I little of the cool bleak air, That in a little cottage I have found ; Keats. 117 On the Sea-Shore It is a beauteous evening, calm and free, Breathless with adoration; the broad sun Is sinking down in its tranquillity; The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the Sea : And doth with his eternal motion make Dear Child! dear Girl! that walkest with me here, If thou appear untouch'd by solemn thought, Thy nature is not therefore less divine: Thou liest in Abraham's bosom all the year, And worshipp'st at the Temple's inner shrine, God being with thee when we know it not. Wordsworth, 1802. 118 It was a lover and his lass, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino! That o'er the green corn-field did pass In the Spring time, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding; Sweet lovers love the Spring. Between the acres of the rye, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino ! This carol they began that hour, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino! In Spring time, etc. And therefore take the present time, In Spring time, the only pretty ring time, Shakespeare. 119 Madrigal FAIN Would I change that note To which fond Love hath charm'd me Long, long to sing by rote, Fancying that that harm'd me: that that] accent on the first that, viz.: liking (all the while) that which harmed me. 120 Yet when this thought doth come, I have no other choice Either for pen or voice To sing or write. O Love! they wrong thee much I know thee what thou art, 1605. 121* I KNOW not what my secret is, I know to dwell with it were bliss, I cannot yield it in a kiss, Nor breathe it in a sigh ; Enough that I have lived for this, The Bargain Lang. My true Love hath my heart, and I have his, By just exchange one for the other given: I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss ; There never was a better bargain driven. His heart in me keeps me and him in one, My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides: He loves my heart, for once it was his own; I cherish his, because in me it bides. My true Love hath my heart, and I have his. 122* To Althea from Prison Stone walls do not a prison make, Nor iron bars a cage; That for a hermitage : If I have freedom in my love Angels alone, that soar above, Sidney. 123 Lovelace. Oн, talk not to me of a name great in story; What are garlands and crowns to the brow that is wrinkled ? "Tis but as a dead-flower with May-dew besprinkledThen away with all such from the head that is hoary! What care I for the wreaths that can only give glory? O FAME!-If I e'er took delight in thy praises, "Twas less for the sake of thy high sounding phrases, Than to see the bright eyes of the dear one discover She thought that I was not unworthy to love her. high sounding] high-sounding is probably intended. There chiefly I sought thee, there only I found thee ; Her glance was the best of the rays that surround thee ; When it sparkled o'er aught that was bright in my story, I knew it was love, and I felt it was glory. Byron, 1821. 124 Lucy SHE dwelt among the untrodden ways A Maid whom there were none to praise A violet by a mossy stone She lived unknown, and few could know When Lucy ceased to be ; But she is in her grave, and, oh, The difference to me! Wordsworth, 1799. 125 O SNATCH'D away in beauty's bloom, Their leaves, the earliest of the year; And the wild cypress wave in tender gloom : And oft by yon blue gushing stream Shall Sorrow lean her drooping head, Fond wretch! as if her steps disturb'd the dead! |