Volume Ii Part 3 (1/2)

CUPID DROWNED

T'other day, as I was twining Roses, for a crown to dine in, What, of all things, 'mid the heap, Should I light on, fast asleep, But the little desperate elf, The tiny traitor, Love, himself!

By the wings I picked him up Like a bee, and in a cup Of my wine I plunged and sank him, Then what d'ye think I did?--I drank him.

Faith, I thought him dead. Not he!

There he lives with ten-fold glee; And now this moment with his wings I feel him tickling my heart-strings.

Leigh Hunt [1784-1859]

SONG From ”The Heir of Vironi”

Oh! say not woman's love is bought With vain and empty treasure.

Oh! say not woman's heart is caught By every idle pleasure.

When first her gentle bosom knows Love's flame, it wanders never; Deep in her heart the pa.s.sion glows, She loves, and loves for ever.

Oh! say not woman's false as fair, That, like the bee, she ranges, Still seeking flowers more sweet and rare, As fickle fancy changes.

Ah no! the love that first can warm Will leave her bosom never; No second pa.s.sion e'er can charm, She loves, and loves for ever.

Isaac Poc.o.c.k [1782-1835]

”IN THE DAYS OF OLD”

From ”Crotchet Castle”

In the days of old Lovers felt true pa.s.sion, Deeming years of sorrow By a smile repaid: Now the charms of gold, Spells of pride and fas.h.i.+on, Bid them say Good-morrow To the best-loved Maid.

Through the forests wild, O'er the mountains lonely, They were never weary Honor to pursue: If the damsel smiled Once in seven years only, All their wanderings dreary Ample guerdon knew.

Now one day's caprice Weighs down years of smiling, Youthful hearts are rovers, Love is bought and sold.

Fortune's gifts may cease, Love is less beguiling: Wiser were the lovers In the days of old.

Thomas Love Peac.o.c.k [1785-1866]

SONG

How delicious is the winning Of a kiss at Love's beginning, When two mutual hearts are sighing For the knot there's no untying!

Yet remember, 'midst your wooing, Love has bliss, but Love has ruing; Other smiles may make you fickle, Tears for other charms may trickle.

Love he comes, and Love he tarries, Just as fate or fancy carries; Longest stays, when sorest chidden; Laughs and flies, when pressed and bidden.

Bind the sea to slumber stilly, Bind its odor to the lily, Bind the aspen ne'er to quiver, Then bind Love to last forever!

Love's a fire that needs renewal Of fresh beauty for its fuel: Love's wing moults when caged and captured, Only free, he soars enraptured.

Can you keep the bee from ranging, Or the ringdove's neck from changing?