LXXVIII. A STUDY FROM THE ANTIQUE. Behold, my love, the curious gem Some fair Athenian girl, perhaps, Thou seest, it is a simple youth By some enamoured nymph embraced- Upon his curled head behind It seems in careless play to lie, Yet presses gently, half inclin'd To bring the truant's cheek more nigh. So may we try the graceful way In which their gentle arms are twin'd And thus I feel thee breathing sweet, T. Moore. LXXIX. LOVE AT EBB. Between the sunset and the sea Between the sea-mark and the sea Love's talk, love's touch there seemed to be Between the sun-down and the sea Love watched one hour of love with me; I saw them come and saw them flee Between the sea-strand and the sea A. C. Swinburne. LXXX. LOVE'S PHILOSOPHY. The fountains mingle with the river The winds of heaven mix for ever Nothing in the world is single, In one another's being mingle- See the mountains kiss high heaven And the sunlight clasps the earth, Shelley. LXXXI. THE LOYALTY OF LOVE. I love thee, I love thee; in vain I endeavour O royal, believe me, it is to controul Two mighty dominions the Heart and the Soul. To know that thy whisper each pang can beguile; And feel that creation is lit by thy smile. Yet every dominion needs care to retain Dost thou know when thou pain'st me or smile at the pain ?· Alas! the heart sickens, the doubt and the dread, When some word that we pine for, cold lips have not said! When no pulses respond to the feelings we prove; And we tremble to question if this can be love :' That no love could defend thee from sorrow like mine. And this, O ungrateful, I most should deplore That the heart thou hadst broken could shield thee no more! Sir E. Bulwer Lytton. LXXXII. THE FLIGHT OF LOVE. When the lamp is shatter'd Sweet tones are remember'd not; As music and splendour Survive not the lamp and the lute, No song when the spirit is mute- Like the wind through a ruin'd cell, That ring the dead seaman's knell. When hearts have once mingled, To endure what it once possest. O love! who bewailest The frailty of all things here, Why choose you the frailest For your cradle, your home and Its passions will rock thee As the storms rock the ravens on high; Bright reason will mock thee Like the sun from a wintry sky. From thy nest every rafter Will rot, and thine eagle home Leave thee naked to laughter, When leaves fall and cold winds come. Shelley. |