Part 29 (1/2)

_Che con le lor bugie pajon divini._ MAURO D'ARCANO.

I do confess, in many a sigh, My lips have breathed you many a lie; And who, with such delights in view, Would lose them for a lie or two?

Nay,--look not thus, with brow reproving; Lies are, my dear, the soul of loving.

If half we tell the girls were true, If half we swear to think and do, Were aught but lying's bright illusion, This world would be in strange confusion.

If ladies' eyes were, every one, As lovers swear, a radiant sun, Astronomy must leave the skies, To learn her lore in ladies' eyes.

Oh, no--believe me, lovely girl, When nature turns your teeth to pearl, Your neck to snow, your eyes to fire, Your amber locks to golden wire, Then, only then can Heaven decree, That you should live for only me, Or I for you, as night and morn, We've swearing kist, and kissing sworn.

And now, my gentle hints to clear, For once I'll tell you truth, my dear.

Whenever you may chance to meet Some loving youth, whose love is sweet, Long as you're false and he believes you, Long as you trust and he deceives you, So long the blissful bond endures, And while he lies, his heart is yours: But, oh! you've wholly lost the youth The instant that he tells you truth.

ANACREONTIC.

Friend of my soul, this goblet sip, 'Twill chase that pensive tear; 'Tis not so sweet as woman's lip, But, oh! 'tis more sincere.

Like her delusive beam, 'Twill steal away thy mind: But, truer than love's dream, It leaves no sting behind.

Come, twine the wreath, thy brows to shade; These flowers were culled at noon;-- Like woman's love the rose will fade, But, ah! not half so soon.

For though the flower's decayed, Its fragrance is not o'er; But once when love's betrayed, Its sweet life blooms no more.

THE PHILOSOPHER ARISTIPPUS[1]

TO A LAMP WHICH HAD BEEN GIVEN HIM BY LAIS.

_Dulcis conscia lectuli lucerna_.

MARTIAL, _lib. xiv. epig. 89_.

”Oh! love the Lamp” (my Mistress said), ”The faithful Lamp that, many a night, ”Beside thy Lais' lonely bed?

”Has kept its little watch of light.

”Full often has it seen her weep, ”And fix her eye upon its flame.

”Till, weary, she has sunk to sleep, ”Repeating her beloved's name.

”Then love the Lamp--'twill often lead ”Thy step through learning's sacred way; ”And when those studious eyes shall read, ”At midnight, by its lonely ray, ”Of things sublime, of nature's birth, ”Of all that's bright in heaven or earth, Oh, think that she, by whom 'twas given, ”Adores thee more than earth or heaven!”

Yes--dearest Lamp, by every charm On which thy midnight beam has hung; The head reclined, the graceful arm Across the brow of ivory flung;

The heaving bosom, partly hid, The severed lips unconscious sighs, The fringe that from the half-shut lid Adown the cheek of roses lies;

By these, by all that bloom untold, And long as all shall charm my heart, I'll love my little Lamp of gold-- My Lamp and I shall never part.