Part 5

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? No! nor fettered Love from dying In the knot there's no untying.

Thomas Campbell [1777-1844]

STANZAS

Could Love for ever Run like a river, And Time's endeavor Be tried in vain - No other pleasure With this could measure, And like a treasure We'd hug the chain. But since our sighing Ends not in dying, And, formed for flying, Love plumes his wing; Then for this reason Let's love a season; But let that season Be only Spring.

When lovers parted Feel broken-hearted, And, all hopes thwarted, Expect to die; A few years older, Ah! how much colder They might behold her For whom they sigh! When linked together, In every weather, They pluck Love's feather From out his wing - He'll stay for ever, But sadly shiver Without his plumage, When past the Spring.

Like Chiefs of Faction, His life is action - A formal paction That curbs his reign, Obscures his glory, Despot no more, he Such territory Quits with disdain. Still, still advancing, With banners glancing, His power enhancing, He must move on - Repose but cloys him, Retreat destroys him, Love brooks not a Degraded throne.

Wait not, fond lover! Till years are over, And then recover, As from a dream. While each bewailing The other's failing, With wrath and railing, All hideous seem - While first decreasing, Yet not quite ceasing, Wait not till teasing All passion blight: If once diminished Love's reign is finished - Then part in friendship, - And bid good-night.

So shall Affection To recollection The dear connection Bring back with joy: You had not waited Till, tired or hated, Your passions sated Began to cloy. Your last embraces Leave no cold traces - The same fond faces As through the past; And eyes, the mirrors Of your sweet errors, Reflect but rapture - Not least though last.

True, separations Ask more than patience; What desperations From such have risen! But yet remaining, What is't but chaining Hearts which, once waning, Beat 'gainst their prison? Time can but cloy love, And use destroy love: The winged boy, Love, Is but for boys - You'll find it torture Though sharper, shorter, To wean and not Wear out your joys.

George Gordon Byron [1788-1824]

"THEY SPEAK O' WILES"

They speak o' wiles in woman's smiles, An' ruin in her ee; I ken they bring a pang at whiles That's unco' sair to dree;

But mind ye this, the half-ta'en kiss, The first fond fa'in' tear, Is, heaven kens, fu' sweet amends, An' tints o' heaven here.

When two leal hearts in fondness meet, Life's tempests howl in vain; The very tears o' love are sweet When paid with tears again.

Shall hapless prudence shake its pow? Shall cauldrife caution fear? Oh, dinna, dinna droun the lowe That lights a heaven here!

William Thom [1798?-1848]

"LOVE WILL FIND OUT THE WAY"

Over the mountains And over the waves, Under the fountains And under the graves, Under floods that are deepest, Which Neptune obey, Over rocks that are steepest, Love will find out the way.

Where there is no place For the glow-worm to lie, Where there is no space For receipt of a fly, Where the midge dares not venture, Lest herself fast she lay, If Love come, he will enter, And find out the way.

You may esteem him A child for his might, Or you may deem him A coward from his flight: But if she whom Love doth honor Be concealed from the day, Set a thousand guards upon her, Love will find out the way.

Some think to lose him, By having him confined, And some do suppose him, Poor thing, to be blind; But if ne'er so close ye wall him, Do the best that you may, Blind Love, if so ye call him, Will find out the way.

You may train the eagle To stoop to your fist, Or you may inveigle The phoenix of the east; The tiger, ye may move her To give over her prey; But you'll ne'er stop a lover - He will find out the way.

Unknown

A WOMAN'S SHORTCOMINGS