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Love's no irregular desire,
No sudden start of raging pain, Which in a moment grows on fire,
And in a moment cools again : Not found in the sad sonnetteer,
That sings of darts, despair, and chains, And by whose dismal verse 'tis clear
He wants not heart alone, but brains.
Nor does it centre in the beau,
Who sighs by rule, in order dies; Whose All consists in outward shew,
And want of wit by dress supplies. No; Love is something so divine,
Description would but make it less : 'Tis what we feel, but can't define; 'Tis what we know, but can't express.
The parent bird, whose little nest
Doth cherish them with love;
Regardless where they rove.
But hapless we, of human race,
On what procures us pain ;
When first this humble roof I knew,
With various cares I strove ; My grain was scarce, my sheep were few,
My all of life was love.
By mutual toil our board was dress’d,
The spring our drink bestow'd;
The cup with nectar flow'd.
Content and peace the dwelling shar'd,
No other guest came nigh;
What gold could never buy.
No value has a splendid lot,
But as the means to prove That, from the castle to the cot, The all of life is love.
Myrtle und Vine.
I have a silent sorrow here,
A grief I'll ne'er impart,
This cherish'd woe, this lov'd despair,
My lot for ever be ;
Be never known by thee.
And when pale characters of death
Shall mark this alter'd cheek, When my poor wasted trembling breath,
My life's last hope would speak
I shall not raise my eyes to hear'n,
Nor mercy ask for me;
Sheridan. THE PURSUIT OF HEALTH.
One April morn, reclin’d in bed,
Just at the hour when dreams are true, A fairy form approach'd my head,
Smiling beneath her mantle blue.
“ Fie, fie!” she cry'd, “why sleep so long,
When she, the nymph you dearly love, Now roves the vernal flowers
among, And waits for you in yonder grove?
“Hark! you may hear her cherub voice:
The voice of Health is sweet and clear: Yes, you may hear the birds rejoice .In symphony, her arbour near.”
I rose, and hasten’d to the
grove, With eager steps and anxious mind; I rose the elfin's truth to prove,
And hop'd the promis'd nymph to find.
My fairy took me by the hand,
And cheerfully we stepp'd along; She stopp’d, but on the new-plough'd land,
To hear the russet woodlark's song.