"O Were My Love Yon Lilac Fair

Then, lady, dread not here deceit,

Nor fear to suffer wrong,

For friends in all the aged you'll meet,

And lovers in the young.

But when they find that you have blessed
Another with your heart,

They'll bid aspiring passion rest,

And act a brother's part:
Then, lady, dread not here deceit

Nor fear to suffer wrong;

For friends in all the aged you'll meet,

And brothers in the young.

599

Richard Brinsley Sheridan [1751-1816]

MEETING

My Damon was the first to wake
The gentle flame that cannot die;
My Damon is the last to take

The faithful bosom's softest sigh:
The life between is nothing worth,

O cast it from thy thought away!
Think of the day that gave it birth,
And this its sweet returning day.

Buried be all that has been done,

Or say that naught is done amiss;
For who the dangerous path can shun
In such bewildering world as this?
But love can every fault forgive,

Or with a tender look reprove;

And now let naught in memory live

But that we meet, and that we love.
George Crabbe [1754-1832]

"O WERE MY LOVE YON LILAC FAIR"

O WERE my Love yon lilac fair,

Wi' purple blossoms to the spring,

And I a bird to shelter there,

When wearied on my little wing;

How I wad mourn when it was torn

By autumn wild and winter rude! But I wad sing on wanton wing

When youthfu' May its bloom renewed.

O gin my Love were yon red rose
That grows upon the castle wa',
And I mysel a drap o' dew,

Into her bonnie breast to fa';
O there, beyond expression blest,
I'd feast on beauty a' the night;
Sealed on her silk-saft faulds to rest,
Till fleyed awa' by Phoebus' light.

Robert Burns [1759-1796]

"BONNIE WEE THING"

BONNIE wee thing! cannie wee thing!
Lovely wee thing! wert thou mine,
I wad wear thee in my bosom,
Lest my jewel I should tine.
Wishfully I look, and languish

In that bonnie face o' thine;
And my heart it stounds wi' anguish,
Lest my wee thing be na mine.

Wit and grace, and love and beauty,
In ae constellation shine;
To adore thee is my duty,

Goddess o' this soul o' mine!
Bonnie wee thing, cannie wce thing,

Lovely wee thing, wert thou mine,

I wad wear thee in my bosom,

Lest my jewel I should tine.

Robert Burns [1759-1796]

ROSE AYLMER

Ан, what avails the sceptered race!

Ah, what the form divine!
What every virtue, every grace!

Rose Aylmer, all were thine.

"Take Back the Virgin Page" 601

Rose Aylmer, whom these wakeful eyes

May weep, but never see,

A night of memories and sighs

I consecrate to thee.

eyes

Far, far away I roam,

Should calmer thoughts arise

Towards you and home;

Fancy may trace some line

Worthy those eyes to meet,
Thoughts that not burn, but shine,

Pure, calm, and sweet.

And as o'er ocean far

Seamen their records keep,

Led by some hidden star

Through the cold deep;
So may the words I write

Tell through what storms I stray,

You still the unseen light

Guiding my way.

BELIEVE me, if all those endearing young charms,
Which I gaze on so fondly to-day,

Were to change by to-morrow, and fleet in my arms,
Like fairy-gifts fading away,

Thou wouldst still be adored, as this moment thou art,
Let thy loveliness fade as it will,

And around the dear ruin each wish of my heart
Would entwine itself verdantly still.

It is not while beauty and youth are thine own,
And thy cheeks unprofaned by a tear,

That the fervor and faith of a soul may be known,
To which time will but make thee more dear!
No, the heart that has truly loved never forgets,
But as truly loves on to the close,

As the sunflower turns to her god when he sets
The same look which she turned when he rose!
Thomas Moore [1779-1852]

THE NUN

IF you become a nun, dear,

A friar I will be;

In any cell you run, dear,

Pray look behind for me.

The roses all turn pale, too;
The doves all take the veil, too;

The blind will see the show;
What! you become a nun, my dear,
I'll not believe it, no!

Το

If you become a nun, dear,
The bishop Love will be:
The Cupids every one, dear,

Will chant, "We trust in thee!"
The incense will go sighing.
The candles fall a-dying,

The water turn to wine:

What! you go take the vows, my dear?

You may--but they'll be mine.

603

Leigh Hunt [1784-1859]

SONG

LOVE me if I live!

Love me if I die!

What to me is life or death,
So that thou be nigh?

Once I loved thee rich,

Now I love thee poor;

Ah! what is there I could not
For thy sake endure?

Kiss me for my love!

Pay me for my pain!

Come! and murmur in my ear

How thou lov'st again!

Bryan Waller Procter [1787-1874]

ΤΟ

ONE word is too often profaned
For me to profane it,

One feeling too falsely disdained

For thee to disdain it.

One hope is too like despair

For prudence to smother, And Pity from thee more dear Than that from another.