DRINK ye to her that each loves best,
And if you nurse a flame
That's told but to her mutual breast,
We will not ask her name.
Enough, while memory tranced and glad
Paints silently the fair,
That each should dream of joys he's had,
Or yet may hope to share.
Yet far, far hence be jest or boast
From hallow'd thoughts so dear;
But drink to her that each loves most,
As she would love to hear.
BRIGHT star of beauty, on whose eyelids sit
A thousand nymph-like and enamoured graces,
The goddesses of memory and wit,
Which there in order take their several places,
In whose dear bosom sweet delicious Love
Lays down his quiver which he once did bear,
Since he that blessed paradise did prove,
And leaves his mother's lap to sport him there;
Let others strive to entertain with words,-
My soul is of a braver metal made;
I hold that vile, which vulgar wit affords ;
In me's that faith which time can not invade.
Let what I praise be still made good by you:
Be you most worthy, whilst I am most true.
MICHAEL DRAYTON.
WHAT care I though beauty fading,
Die ere time can turn his glass,
What though locks the Graces braiding,
Perish like the summer grass?
Though thy charms should all decay,
Think not my affections may.
For thy charms, though bright as morning,
Captured not my idle heart;
Love so grounded ends in scorning,
Lacks the barb to hold the dart.
My devotion more secure
Wooes thy spirit high and pure.
WILLIAM CALDWELL ROSCOE.
MONTROSE'S LOVE
My dear and only love, I pray
That little world of thee
Be governed by no other sway
But purest monarchy;
For if confusion have a part,
Which virtuous souls abhor,
And hold a synod in my heart,
I'll never love thee more.
Like Alexander I will reign,
And I will reign alone :
My thoughts did evermore disdain
A rival on my throne.
He either fears his fate too much,
Or his deserts are small,
Who dares not put it to the touch,
To gain or lose it all.
But if thou wilt prove faithful then,
And constant of thy word,
I'll make thee glorious by my pen,
And famous by my sword.
I'll serve thee in such noble ways
Was never heard before;
I'll crown and deck thee all with bays,
And love thee more and more.
JAMES GRAHAM, MARQUIS OF MONTROSE,
TELL me not, sweet, I am unkind,
That from the nunnery
Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind
To war and arms I fly.
True, a new mistress now I chase,
The first foe in the field,
And with a stronger faith embrace
A sword, a horse, a shield.
Yet this inconstancy is such
As you too shall adore ;
I could not love thee, dear, so much,
Loved I not Honour more.
A lover may bestride the gossamer
That idles in the wanton summer air,
Love in these labyrinths his slaves detains,
And mighty hearts are held in slender chains.
Love's the noblest frailty of the mind.
|