In the lost battle,

Borne down by the flying,
Where mingles war's rattle
With groans of the dying;

Eleu loro

There shall he be lying.

Her wing shall the eagle flap
O'er the false-hearted;

His warm blood the wolf shall lap
Ere life be parted:
Shame and dishonour sit

By his grave ever;
Blessing shall hallow it

Never, O never!

Eleu loro

Never, O never!

Sir Walter Scott.

CCXXVIII.

LOVE UPBRAIDING.

TO LOVE, AND LOVE.

O LIGHT of dead and of dying days!
O Love! in thy glory go,

In a rosy mist and a moony haze,

O'er the pathless peaks of snow. But what is left for the cold grey soul, That moans like a wounded dove? One wine is left in the broken bowl'T is-To love, and love, and love. George MacDonald.

CCXXIX.

LOVE UPBRAIDING.

THE SELF-BANISHED.

IT is not that I love you less

Than when before your feet I lay; But to prevent the sad increase

Of hopeless love, I keep away.

In vain, alas! for everything

Which I have known belong to you Your form does to my fancy bring,

And makes my old wounds bleed anew.

Who in the Spring, from the new sun,
Already has a fever got,

Too late begins those shafts to shun,

Which Phoebus through his veins has shot:

Too late he would the pain assuage,
And to thick shadows does retire;
About with him he bears the rage,
And in his tainted blood the fire.

But vowed I have, and never must
Your banished servant trouble you;
For if I break, you may distrust,
The vow I made to love you too.

Edmund Waller.

CCXXX.

LOVE UPBRAIDING.

TO AN INCONSTANT MISTRESS.

WHEN thou, poor excommunicate
From all the joys of love, shalt see
The full reward, and glorious fate,

Which my strong faith shall purchase me,
Then curse thine own inconstancy.

A fairer hand than thine shall cure

That heart which thy false oaths did wound,

And to my soul a soul more pure

Than thine shall by love's hand be bound,
And both with equal glory crowned.

Then shalt thou weep, entreat, complain

To love, as I did once to thee;

When all thy tears shall be as vain
As mine were then, for thou shalt be

Damned for thy false apostacy.

Thomas Carew.

CCXXXI.

LOVE UPBRAIDING.

TO BE HIS VALENTINE.

CHOOSE me your valentine;
Next let us marry;
Love to the death will pine,
If we long tarry.

Promise, and keep your vows,

Or vow ye never;
Love's doctrine disavows

Troth-breakers ever.

You have broke promise twice,

Dear, to undo me;

If you prove faithless thrice,

None then will woo thee.

Robert Herrick.

CCXXXII.

LOVE UPBRAIDING.

TO A FALSE MISTRESS.

SEND home my long strayed eyes to me,
Which, oh! too long have dwelt on thee;

But if they there have learned such ill,
Such forced fashions

And false passions,

That they be

Made by thee

Fit for no good sight, keep them still.

Send home my harmless heart again,

Which no unworthy thought could stain;
But if it be taught by thine

To make jestings

Of protestings,

And break both

Word and oath,

Keep it still, 't is none of mine.

Yet send me back my heart and eyes,
That I may know and see thy lies,
And may laugh and joy when thou
Art in anguish,

And dost languish

For some one

That will none,

Or prove as false as thou dost now.

John Donne.

CCXXXIII.

LOVE UPBRAIDING.

TO LOVE NO MORE.

I LOVED thee once, I'll love no more;
Thine be the grief as is the blame;
Thou art not what thou wast before:
What reason I should be the same?
He that can love unloved again
Hath better store of heart than brain :
God send me love my debts to pay,
While unthrifts fool their love away.

Nothing could have my love o'erthrown,
If thou had'st still continued mine;
Yea, if thou had'st remained thy own,
I might perchance have yet been thine.
But thou thy freedom did recall,
That it thou might elsewhere enthrall;
And then how could I but disdain
A captive's captive to remain?

When new desires had conquered thee,
And changed the object of thy will,
It had been lethargy in me,

Not constancy to love thee still.

Yea, it had been a sin to go
And prostitute affection so,
Since we are taught no prayers to say
To such as must to others pray.

Yet do thou glory in thy choice,
Thy choice of his good-fortune boast;
I'll neither grieve nor yet rejoice
To see him gain what I have lost;
The height of my disdain shall be-
To laugh at him, to blush for thee;
To love thee still, but go no more
A begging to a beggar's door.

Sir Robert Aytoun.

CCXXXIV.

LOVE UPBRAIDING.

A FICKLE FAIR ONE.

I DO confess thou'rt smooth and fair,

And I might have gone near to love thee,

Had I not found the slightest prayer

That lips could speak, had power to move thee;

But I can let thee now alone

As worthy to be loved by none.

I do confess thou'rt sweet, but find

Thee such an unthrift of thy sweets;

Thy favours are but like the wind,
That kisses everything it meets :
And since thou can with more than one,
Thou'rt worthy to be kissed by none.